


The Tale of the Odinson and the Frost Giant

by LokiBitch07



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst, Body Horror, Complicated Cast System, Depression, Enemies to Friends, Epic, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, I swear, Intersex Loki, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Other, Peace-Hostage, Pregnancy, Rape, Sexual Assault, Slow Build, Then back to enemies, War, things that you dont expect will happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 231,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3949252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiBitch07/pseuds/LokiBitch07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is born as the youngest prince of Jötunheimr, a broken realm of hunger and darkness. His father Laufey lost a 1000-year war against Odin Allfather, and Loki-prince, a born Mage and Ergi, is send as a deliberate insult as a peace-hostage to Asgard.<br/>Odin takes him in and the boy grows into a man.<br/>Thor, who despises the foreign looking Frost Giant is forced to find out more about the ways of the Jötun, and the two young Gods learn about each other cultures and ways. But then there is another war, Asgard vs Jötunheimr, and the budding friendship that the two young Gods built, crumbles. When Laufey looses the second war, Thor has to stake his own claim on the Icen Realm, enslaving the Icen people and forcing the Giants to their knees. Loki is captured as a spoil of war and has to make the hardest decision of his life.<br/>Will he accept the cruel fate the Norns have chosen for him?<br/>And will Jötunheimr ever be free?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All right then! This story was written and re-written 4 times in the last 3 years.  
> It started very much in the lines of 'Submit Brother', which is more or less a pure non-con fic and then it moved away from that and transformed over the years in somewhat of a reluctant love-story between enemies. 
> 
> Mind you, if you are here only for kisses, cuddles and rainbows, this is not your fic. This is an epic tale about war, love and hate and it will include rape, death, angst, depression and many, _many_ other things that are not ok by mortal standards. But there will also be fluff and love and butterfly kisses and finally somewhat of a happy end, it might just take a really long time to get there.  
>  More or less this is me trying NOT to write a dark!fic. No, this is me writing a real story that is not only about porn but focuses on the plot and world-building and whatnot. Just imagine. I can't. 
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful uluka who is my beta for this story as of chapter 4. 
> 
> Feedback and kudos are, as always, very welcome. They are sexy, and you know it. 
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: Oct 2015: PLEASE NOTE: This is NOT a study of real-world problems like rape-recovery or how to handle rape survivors. This is fiction. So if you are hoping for Thor/ Loki to act like good human beings, well, they are not going to. They are Gods, after all. Some readers keep forgetting this, and then I am always sorry that they are expecting something I can not deliver. Shit is going to hit the fan. Don't come complaining, cause i did warn you. 
> 
> x

__**From the book: Asgard and its Realms  
** By Eir Lyfjaberg  
Outtakes from chapter 27, Jötunheimr, the biology and behavior of a people. 

_ The Mating Behavior of the Jotnar _

_Jötnar, Jotun or Frost Giants are of both sexes, or intersexed, as of birth.  
A whelp is born after being carried in its mother's womb for 1,5-2 years, bearing a set a set of two genitals which consist of the penis and a vagina closed off with a thick hymen just below the vulva._

_After roughly 30 to 50 years the child's horns will push through its skin on its forehead, growing either in a straight manner, indicating their Warrior Caste or in curled manner, whose bearer almost always find themselves with magical abilities as they grow older. These children are part of the Mage's Cast and exceedingly rare, only one in every 1000th child in possession of these powers._

_Once a Jötnar achieves maturity, starting around the 2nd century but as late as the 7th century, they will be driven into instinctive mating fights over the cherished and sought-after weaker Jotuns or runts, who take the female role in the relationship. Even though the winner of said fights have the right to ergi the fought-over Frost Giant, the weaker Jotun or, in rarer cases, Mages and runts, have the last say in the courtship and the ability to choose a mate._

_However, since the end of the 1000-year Icen War between Jötunheimr and Asgard under the current king, Laufey Utgardson, the realm is run as a forceful patriarchy. The mating fights have turned into fights for dominance and the strong position in a partnership. The fights in itself have not changed, traditionally carried out using hands and horns, but with the new patriarchy the winning Jötnar will now claim the weaker opponent on the spot, forcefully penetrating the closed orifice (vagina) and hereby degrading the loosing partner into a life as an Ergi._

_The position of 'Ergi' as well as the pronoun 'she' is disgraceful and seen as a form of humiliation under Laufey's rule, leading to loss of face and status. Ergi Jötnar are not allowed to take part in government, hunting parties or battles, and are solely used for breeding purposes and lower tasks such as manual labor.  
Depending on the Alpha, the Ergi's horns will be removed to inhibit her from future fights to regain her freedom. Also, she will usually be branded or tattooed with rounded symbols that cancel out the status of a Warrior as well as indicate the ownership by repeating some of her Alpha's patterns, thus marking her as his property. The Alpha that ergi'd the weaker Jotun has full rights to her body at all times, to a point that even killing her, while frowned upon, is of his own choosing and will not be penalized._

_When an Ergi Jötnar is claimed via her female openings several times over the course of at least a month up to several decades, the repetitive act of breeding will release a single egg from her dormant ovaries. This in turn will produce a heat in the Ergi; she will exhibit heightened sexual arousal and generate pheromones, bringing her Alpha into a rut who will continue to breed her until she is with child; once it is born her milk glands enlarge visibly and create breasts for the necessary nursing._

_A Jötnar can have several mates, depending on his strength and prowess in his fights. If a Frost Giant longs for the Ergi of another Warrior, a fight will decide the new owner and usually leaves one of the opponents dead in its wake. This is a rare occurrence, however, and lead to harsh penalties as a Warriors life’s is prized above all._

_Nowadays many weaker Jötnar or runts choose escape or self-slaughter over the possibility of being forcefully mated to another Frost Giant. This is the reason why many of them can be found living solitarily in the wide plains of Jötunheimr._


	2. The peace-hostage

The runt. 

Jotunheim had dared to send the runt.

Odin’s face was a stony mask when the young Frost Giant stepped up, a small child dwarfed between the 4 Jötnar Warriors that had come to deliver him. 

When the Allfather had demanded a royal hostage from Jotunheim to ensure the peace between the two realms, he had tested the waters. If Laufey-king was sincere with his talks about peace and submission, he would have sent Býleistr-prince or even Helblindi-prince, one of his two Warrior sons that were to first and second in line to the throne. 

Instead he had sent his runt, the shame of the house of Laufey. 

The third son. 

The Ergi. 

Odin studied the young Jotun standing in front of him, body straight, eyes glaring red in his face. He looked young, no more than 100, maybe 120 years at most, a child still, several decades younger than his own son if there was any telling with these beasts. 

The Allfather could hear Thor suck the air in between his teeth, knowing that his heir had also realized the provocation that the King of the Icen Realm had sent to them and raised his hands to silence the Golden One before he could voice his anger. Thor was still young himself, his decisions rash and he was prone to speak before thinking, to make judgments before weighing out all the options. 

Loki held his head high, suppressing the painful pangs of fear that assaulted his stomach, knowing full well that his appearance alone was a harsh affront against the Allfather, an insult thrown into the face of one of the most powerful Gods that had ever lived.  
He was young, but he was by no means stupid.  
He took a deep breath and forced his face into an unmoving mask, focusing solely on Odin, knowing well that the God's reaction would seal his own fate as well as the future of the shaky truce between Jötunheimr and Asgard.

Loki had known something was amiss the moment his father had pulled him from his classes this morning without a word, disturbing the predictable routine that was his life. He had been led into the throne room and presented to the messenger of Asgard, a young woman who bore Odin's request for one of Laufey's sons as a peace-hostage. The youngest prince had stared into the stoic face of his father and had felt dread wash over him as Laufey signaled his guards to stand by his side.  
Loki felt frozen as the messenger rattled down the rights and obligations of a peace-hostage, the duties he would have and when and how his family would get to visit him. He searched his father's face but saw nothing but contempt, and after that he turned his gaze to the floor, his own mind racing. When she was done she waited and asked if there were any questions.  
Laufey had just stared at her and sneered, and then he was asked if he and his son would atone to the request of Odin. The king of the Jötnar had stared at Loki, distaste heavy on his features, and barked out a sharp Yes. 

That had been it.  
The last thing Loki heard from his father were the disgusted words “Do not bring shame onto this house.” before he was beckoned to follow the messenger out of his childhood home, and after a moment of hesitation, tears of confusion flooding the young prince's eyes, he obliged. The four guards had followed them, and Loki knew that they were less there to protect him than to keep him from running.  
He was known to run fast. 

And only then, numb and fearful, walking out into the snow towards a unclear future, did Loki realize that Laufey had chosen to throw one of the gravest insults the Jötnar King could at Odin-Allfather.

To send the Ergi-prince as a peace-hostage. 

He was worthless.  
He knew it.  
Laufey-king knew it.  
And by the anger that Loki could feel curl hot from the Allfather and his golden son, he realized that they knew it as well. 

Loki-prince raised his chin a little higher and forced himself not to fist his hands at his sides. He was not going to give them the satisfaction of showing the fear that bubbled in his stomach. 

He wondered briefly what Asgardians would do to a personified show of disrespect.  
Would they kill him instantly and send his broken body back to his father, declaring war?  
Would they throw him into the deepest dungeons that Asgard had to offer and throw away the key, leaving him to rot?  
Would they torture him?  
Or, and that would be worst of all, would they send him back, refusing to accept the disgrace of the house of Laufey in their midst? Proving once more to his own father how worthless he really was?

Either way, Loki stayed still and tried to keep his red eyes devoid of emotion as he could _feel_ the gaze of the two most powerful Gods of all the realms upon him.  
If he was to die today he would as a proud prince of Jötunheimr, not as a cowering, weeping child.

He hardly noticed when Odin let out a sigh and nodded towards his guards.  
“Thank Laufey-king for sending his son to ensure the peace between our realms.”  
The Allfather waved his right hand, declaring the meeting as concluded. 

Loki blinked in shock, opening his mouth, closing it again.  
He could see Thor tensing beside his father, staring at him in surprise, then turning towards Loki, eyes sparkling with anger and resentment.  
Loki felt incredibly small under that blue-eyed stare of the Thunderer towering above him, realizing with a pang of embarrassment that he was only clad the every-day attire of a child, a simple garment that was the mixture between a billowing skirt and trousers, bound tight around his ankles and his waist. His upper body was naked, covered only by the tattoos and scarification that symbolized his status of prince, canceled out by the rounded markings on his shoulders and forehead that signified his Ergi status. His hair was open, not even braided or adorned, the only jewelry he wore the thick, golden rings encasing the base of his horns, thin chains lacing around them all the way to his tips. His father had given him no time to prepare, no time to change into the attire worthy of a prince, not even close. 

Loki realized how small and fragile, but especially how _poor_ he must look. 

He stared at Thor who was harnessed in a golden armor, wearing thick, brown leather pants and a heavy red cape trailing behind him. Shame flooded over Loki and he was almost thankful when two of Odin's guards stepped up to him and beckoned him to follow them. 

His own Jötnar guards left back the way they had come, while he was led to a side door, his naked feet whispering over the cold stone floor. The wooden door leading to the outside opened before him, and then he heard Thor behind him burst out an ejaculation of anger as he faced his father, speaking of Laufey's insult and shame, the blatant disrespect and how he would answer to this insolence from Laufey-king. He heard Thor shout hat they should at least put chains on the runt and throw him into prison to make up for the grave insult.

Loki continued to walk tall, face flaming with indignation and fear, but then the doors leading to the throne room slammed shut behind him, cutting off effectively all sound from the inside. 

He waited for tense moments that someone would rip the doors open and come after him, to tell him that Odin had made a mistake, that he would be sent back to Jötunheimr after all. Or maybe that someone would grab him and take him to the dungeons. That they realized who he was, and that they could not accept a runt in their midst. 

But nothing happened.

Loki continued to follow the shiny golden soldiers of Asgard, heart beating too fast in his chest, walking towards his unsure future in his enemy's home.

Only later did he realize how wise Odin's Allfather's decision really was.  
For instead of rejecting Loki he had decided to turn around the insult by treating the known Ergi-runt and shame of the house of Laufey as a cherished son and prince of Jötunheimr.  
It was the insult thrown back at the Icen Realm.  
Treat Loki the way he would have Býleistr-prince or Helblindi-prince.  
Laufey-king would seethe at the shame. 

It would probably mean war.  
And he was caught as a hostage behind their enemy's lines.


	3. The Fall of the Mages Caste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betad, so any and all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments, they are much appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> x

Once upon a time, many, _many_ lifetimes ago, the Mages caste of of Jötunheimr had been great. 

Songs had been composed about them.  
Dances performed in their honor.  
Books written in their memory. 

The Mages used to stand tall next to the Warriors towering above them, powerful in their own rights, their abilities of high value and their knowledge sought-after, their opinions prized. Their art lay not in wielding a sword or fighting with sharpened horns, but in handling the Olden Magic and ancient war strategies, knowledge passed down through the generations, maybe as old as time itself. 

Long even before the birth of the Great Laufey-king, Mages held control over the many temples of the Great Beasts throughout the lands of the Icen Realm.

In those olden times the Ergi status was not one of shame and was not brought on by violence but by choice, and Warriors and Mages could live either as Alpha or Ergi depending on their preference, like two sides of the same coin, existing side-by-side in peace and respect.  
The equilibrium of the realm was a healthy one and the Wheel of Time turned steadily, over many centuries and millennia without a change to the age-old stability. 

But then the Norns shifted the pattern in the Weave of Life, and Odin was born as prince to Borr-king and Bestla-queen, and he was to bring changes to the icen lands. 

When the Allfather was a young, rash king he declared war against Utgard-king of Jötunheimr for reasons that were later forgotten, and the all the Jötnar, Mages and Warriors alike, stood side by side to fight their common enemy to uphold the peace and freedom of their lands.

The war lasted over a thousand winters. 

It was a gruesome conflict and many, countless Jotuns and Asgardians alike left their life in the battle, their red and black blood mixing in the white snow of the fields of the Icen Realm. 

The conflict went back and forth, no side ever dominating for more than a couple of years or decades, the clever strategies and mindless brutality of the berserkers of Asgard weighing equally against the pure strength and ancient magic of the Frost Giants. 

After more than nine centuries of bloodshed one of the Great Mages, his name abolished and removed from history, believed himself to be wiser than Utgard-king himself and went against his command, moving the Casket of Ancient Winters from its eternal hiding place deep within the mountains into one of the main temple of the Beasts.

With his action, unbeknownst to him, he sealed the doom of the realm and the downfall of its people.

This Mage, cursed be his name, believed that the Caskets strength and its eternal power could be used to strike down Odin and his berserkers and force them to leave the Icen Realm forever.  
He and his followers created massive ice storms, pulling them from deep within the bowels of the Casket, unleashing them upon the lands. 

The strategy did work.  
In the beginning. 

Darkness and freezing winds blackened the once bright days of Jötunheimr, disorienting the Asgardians, and many, many froze to death, their corpses littering the fields.  
Odin had to pull his soldiers out when faced with this new hardship, and the Mage's caste celebrated what they believed to be the victory over the enemy. 

It was far too soon.

For Odin had sorcerers of his own, and the Casket's power webbed over the whole realm, pulsating with a raw energy that was unlike any other.  
It made its source easy to find.  
The Allfather, weary of the never-ending war planned his final attack very carefully, sitting in his war chambers with his best strategists many a year, bringing in sorcerers with abilities beyond the ones found in Asgard.  
His later-to-be consort, Frigga, was to be one of them. 

The day he attacked he did not only bring in the full force of his berserkers and soldiers but 7 of the strongest sorcerers of all the realms, and they build an oasis of calm inside the storms, locating the position of the Casket of Ancient Winters, pointing Odin's army into its direction. 

The Asgardians were determined, a clear target of attack in mind, and even though Utgard-king had one third of his army stationed around the main temple of the Great Beasts housing the Casket, the berserkers outnumbered them greatly. More blood, red and black, mixed in the white snow in those weeks and months, in the conflict that would be later known as the 'Great Battle of Jötunheimr”, as any previous combat dwarfed in comparison.  
When Utgard realized what Odin's focus was drawn to he called off his remaining troops battling other fights, but the Allfather had lured the Frost Giants far away, assuring that they would not reach the temple in time to save the downfall of the Great Mages and the loss of the Casket. 

And he was right.

The berserkers stormed the temple, protected from the Mage's powers by Odin's sorcerers and they were slain as they tried to safeguard the altar that held the most precious artifact and seat of core-magic of the entire realm. 

The Casket of Ancient Winters was open, its bright, deadly light and howling ice-storms spilling from its bowels into the the open air. Three sorcerers approached and cited spells for days, weaving them around the Olden Magic and finally closing the lid onto the large, glittering chest, their life-energies depleted the moment the Casket closed. 

Odin took the artifact and removed it from the Jötunheimr, swiftly taking the realms core magic that, since the beginning of time had concentrated and bundled every magical emission of its lands, and by the action scattering the alchemic field and disturbing the ancient equilibrium of everything that was in the lands of eternal ice. 

The Mages, who had been powerful beyond belief felt their skills fading and it left them frightened and confused, leaving the defense of the Icen Realm to the Warriors caste. The Warriors on the other hand were immensely superstitious and felt like the Norns had cursed them and their people with the loss of their holiest of relics. 

It left the Jötnar paralyzed and Odin stroke down upon his enemy one last time with all his might, having called every last soldier and berserker to the capital of Jötunheimr. They stormed the castle where the Allfather met upon Utgard-king whom he slayed, paying for the victory with the loss of one of his eyes.

The death of Utgard forced his oldest son, the still young Laufey-prince to become the new ruler of Jötunheimr. The young king stepped into the fight with a new strategy born out of despair, but it was too late, and he could only watch as his kingdom crumbled around him, fighting and loosing the last couple of skirmishes with a greatly reduced army and the Mages who has lost most of their abilities.

Less than 6 months later the proud, young Laufey-king was forced to bow his knee in front of Odin, kiss the ground before his feet, offer his surrender and submission. 

The loss had been a great one. 

More than half of all of Jötnar, Warriors and Mages alike, had died in this epic war, and it left the realm plunged into darkness and destroyed beyond recognition. 

The icen storms unleashed by the Casket destroyed the lands, freed and not to be contained as the relic was gone from the realm it was meant to protect. Instead its uninhibited forces now ravaged the once beautiful empire, dulled its glittering icen plains, darkened the previously bright skies, destroyed beauty and replaced it with roughness and eternal gloom. 

The Great Beasts, worshiped by the Frost Giants for millennia withdrew into the mountains, burrowing deep into the ice, falling into hibernation to survive this new, dark age. 

That day the Asgardians left with Odin, Laufey-king condemned the whole Mages cast, and under his command all the priests of the Temples of the Great Beasts were either killed or enslaved by his Warriors.  
The Ergi-status was no longer one of honor but of shame.  
The slaughter of the wrathful young king lasted 30 years until the Mage-subculture was no more.

In the aftermath, many of the weak that had survived former hardship, mostly the old and young starved to death as the new gloomy dusk settling over the realm destroyed the crops in the fields, the livestock of ice cattle and yaks famished and the howling winds made fishing within the Great Seas nearly impossible.  
The Equilibrium between Mages and Warriors castes that had been upheld since the beginning of time was lost, and in the darkness of Jötunheimr only the fittest and strongest survived by enslaving the weak, killing any offspring that showed the powers of seiðr. 

The new dawn upon Jötunheimr was a dark one. 

As of that day, Laufey sat on a broken throne and ruled over a bitter, broken people.


	4. Asgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of I would like to send a thousand thanks to my beta-reader uluka who agreed to check my work for spelling, grammar and consistency. THANK YOU!
> 
> Second, thanks to everyone who leaves comments, kudos and bookmarks!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Asgard was, while intimidating, a welcome distraction to a hungry, young mind.

The realm was monumental and reminded Loki of the stories he had heard of better times, of when the Icen Realm was still great.   
The capital of Asgard was grand and golden, located on an enormous island floating in the galaxy, its massive towers reaching unbelievably far into the sky. It was surrounded by villages, rivers and vast grass lands that stretched as far as the eye could reach.   
The sun was so too bright for someone who had been born into the eternal twilight of never-ending snow storms, burning large and heavy above them. The air itself was hot and stifling on a Frost Giants skin even inside the vast palace and Loki could feel a stream of cooling sweat run along his back, keeping him from succumbing to the heat of this strange realm. 

As he walked barefoot surrounded by the booted soldiers his feet touched the vast floor mosaics that seemed to stretch throughout the palace, tiny inlays of many-colored stones. He was astonished to see them depicting different kind of creatures Loki had never seen before, finely inset in astonishing details.   
Works of art on the _floor_ , to be stepped on.  
He tore his gaze away, eyes flicking along the exquisite tapestries lining the walls, pictures of minstrels and maidens, of galaxies and enormous castles, of epic battles and grand warriors. The doors set in between them were crafted from expensive-looking, dark wood, finely carved and crafted.   
The windows on his left stretched from the floor all the way to the high ceiling, the glass framing them cut like jewels and sparkling like diamonds, throwing flecks of rainbows over its surrounding and onto the floor. They were framed by heavy, dark red, velvety drapes, held to the side by thick golden cords that allowed the light to stream in. 

There was more wealth in a single corridor than in the whole castle Loki had grown up in.   
All of the sudden he could understand the hatred his father had nursed for Asgard all these years.  
It made him uneasy.

They continued walking and Loki was led through many floors into a separate wing of the castle before the guards stopped in front of a smaller door, the taller woman opening it and gesturing the young Jotun to step inside.  
“These are your chambers, prince.”

Loki walked inside a room that was more spacious than any bedroom he had ever seen.

A hefty four-poster bed stood on one side, thin green blankets on top of it covered by thick, white furs, a small unlit fireplace crafted from light-gray stone opposite of it. Three large windows opened the view into one of the many gardens of the palace, fringed with more heavy, green velvet curtains. The floors were made from shiny, golden wood covered in some areas by large, white and green rugs. The tapestries in this room portrayed trees and flowers, woods and animals, ponds and rivers, layered over the white-washed walls.   
Just underneath one of the windows was a small writing desk stacked with ink stones and quills next to thick, creamy parchment, a sturdy looking chair in front of it. In the middle of the room, on top of the largest carpet stood a low, green couch with a small table in front, several books stacked on top of it.  
Loki was astounded by the amount of furniture he had access to, and felt dazed when one of the soldier opened a small door into a separate room. 

“These are the bathing chambers. There are general bathing areas as well, but you will be shown everything in due course.”

Loki glanced into the smaller room, eyes large as he took it all in. The whole chamber was covered in tiny white tiles all the way from the floor to the ceiling, a single bathtub resting in the middle of the rather large space. On his right, a white wash-basin was placed under a mirror, next to it a thin iron-wrought shelf holding sets of bottles and flasks filled with different-colored substances, presumably washing agents. A wide partition-wall was located at the end of the room, fashioned of gleaming white lacquered wood, and it took Loki a moment to realize that the outhouse was located _inside_ his bathroom. It surprised him, but he did not ask any questions, embarrassed by his lack of knowledge. Compared to his sleeping chamber this room was calmingly empty, devoid of any trinkets or wall hangings. 

The soldier stepped past the young prince back into the main room, and Loki, feeling somewhat overwhelmed, followed him. 

The guard pointed to a green, embroidered bell pull next to the bed. 

“If you have any questions or feel hungry, do not hesitate to call for assistance. We will send one of the maids with a dinner to you tonight. She will also discuss your wardrobe and what other needs you may have.”  
The soldier stepped back, his features never changing.

Loki felt a sharp pang of humiliation in his stomach.  
He realized once more that he was wearing nothing more than his daily, economical attire, certainly not fit for a prince, and he knew the soldiers must have noticed that he had no luggage, nothing to his name. 

His father had not expected him to stay as a _guest_. 

Not only was he an insult but he would have to hope for Asgard's mercy and charity to stay alive, for he was sure that his Father would not pay the requested hostage price for his upkeep. He would not be able to afford it. 

Loki held his head high and features empty as the guards gave him a curt nod.   
“We will inform the tutors of your presence, and as of the morrow you will be required to take part in the classes and life of the peace-hostages.”   
With that they took their leave, closing the door behind them silently. 

Loki stood in the middle of the room, toes curling into the soft carpet beneath him.

There was enough wealth in a single room to feed his starving people for at least a week. 

It made understanding his father so much easier. 

X

Later that evening, as Loki was sitting on his windowsill staring into the gardens, a young maid knocked and entered, balancing a tray of food, a small bottle of mead and a bundle of clothes in her arms. 

She placed the tray containing bread, cheese, fish and apples as well as the mead onto the low table in front of the couch and then stepped up to the young prince with the clothing she had brought along for him. Loki stood and eyed the apparel, soft, black trousers and a white linen shirt in the style of Asgardian fashion. The young maid smiled shyly and then asked him to take off his own pants so she could check whether the clothes she brought would be fitting for him. 

Loki was not used to anyone helping him dress and he blushed when he noticed her open stare at his blue skin,white tattoos and raised brands swirling over his body. But she did not seem repelled or uneasy around him, so he quickly unlaced his pants and dropped them on the floor in one smooth motion. He stepped out of them, eyeing the black trousers she held up to him with unease. They looked extremely tight when compared to his billowy apparel and he turned his back to her as he stepped into them, carefully pulling the thick material up his legs, disliking how close it scraped along his skin, stifling him. She helped him lace the front and stepped back to get the shirt, Loki squirming in the too hot and too tight trousers, wondering why anyone would want to be so restricted by such snug fabric pressing against their genitals.   
He loathed them already.   
The maid came back with the white shirt and giggled helplessly as they both realized that he would not be able to pull the top over his head – he had horns and the shirt had only a small head opening, and though there were some laces on the chest he would still not be able to slip it on.  
Loki was somewhat relieved, already feeling too warm and restrained in the foreign clothing, and he ensured her that he never wore tops, that it was not the way of his people to cover the markings adorning his upper body and that he would be fine without one. 

The maid continued to giggle as he took some bow-legged steps as the pants pressed in between his legs and smilingly ensured him that she would ask the tailors to fashion trousers in the way of Jotunheim for him, using his own as a template. 

Loki was extremely relieved and handed his own pants over, even if they were of cheap material and the design too simple for a prince to be seen in public. He asked her for white, thin cloth, at least the color dignifying his standing even if the cut did not and she nodded and took them, ensuring him that she would be able to return them before he would join the classes in the morning. 

At the mention of the classes Loki swallowed uncomfortably, but the girl did not seem to notice. 

With her sweet, open mannerism she took him through his rooms, explained the bathing apparatus to him, once more giggling at his astonishment that she could could pull cold and hot water out of pipes without the need to pump it, just by turning a simple handle.   
It was like seiðr and made him somewhat uncomfortable. 

She smiled at him when she continued explaining the outhouse, or _toilet_ as it was called in Asgard, and she demonstrated how the pull of the chain on the side flushed away waste away from the small hole in the floor. Loki was impressed by the simple yet smart mechanism, and wondered if every room in the grand palace had these contraptions.   
The girl took him back to the main room where she opened a small cupboard just by the door and showed him where glasses and pitchers were kept, explaining that he could fill them in the wash basin if he was thirsty. She giggled as she advised him not to fill it up in the toilet and Loki blushed dark purple, stung that she would think him so foolish; yet he was soothed when she told him that it had happened before with other guests, and that she had to point it out so he would not get sick. 

She asked Loki if he had any more questions, and when he said no she asked him if he needed a fire, grinning when he refused with a hard shake of his head. She must have seen the trails of sweat snaking over his body, but he supposed that it was one of her duties and that she had to ask. The maid fetched his gray pants and gave him a curtsey, reminding him to use the bell pull to call for her if he had any questions or requests. Before she left she told him that she would wake him in the morrow in time to get dressed and break fast before meeting one of the tutors and be introduced to the classes. 

The young ice-prince nodded at her, not showing the fear that crawled up his spine at her words.

Loki was not looking forward to his schooling.

Not one bit. 

x

Classes in Jötunheimr consisted of fighting and sparring, care of weapons and war strategy and finally the cultural history of the realms.   
Since Loki could remember, the other boys had taken their seats far away from him in the classroom, staring at him with disgusted red eyes, shunning the small, weakling prince with the obvious signs of Ergi written all over his skin.   
During sparring classes he had to fight the other, much larger Warrior students, and they would overpower him quickly, his small body and curled horns worthless in battle. Once he was on the floor his opponents would cruelly pinch and slap him. Afterwards, his tutors would beat him for losing. No matter how hard he tried, there was little he could do, and at one point he appealed to his father, asking him to be excused from the classes he would never be able to master. He remembered how Laufey had sneered at him, eyes cold and how he had told him that he would be raised like any other child and would not receive extra care just because of his status.   
So Loki continued to fight, and almost every night he would crawl into his bed in pain, brought on by the harsh, thin ice-whips of his tutors or the big, darkening bruises that would be painted over his body by being wrestled and pressed into the thick ice of the arena. 

He hated sparring classes. 

Then there was the classes on the cultural history of the realms. They only happened once a week and consisted of hateful rants against Asgard, glorification of the Jötnar Warrior caste and the deeply ingrained justification of the elimination of the Mage's caste. Loki felt contempt and loathing ooze from the words of the enormous teacher who would always stare down at him when he talked about the abominable Ergi caste, sneering at his smallest student. He was quick with his own whip, so Loki learned to be quiet, melt into his seat and not lift his gaze as to not upset his tutor unnecessarily. 

Loki hated cultural history about as much as he did sparring. 

The only classes that were of interest for him were the ones about war strategy, but his father had him removed when he found out that Loki had asked pointed questioned about some of the methods and attack plans of his tutors and beat him hard enough so Loki had not been able to sit for more than a week.

Going to classes in Jötunheimr had taught the young prince two things: 

First - It was better to be quiet and listen instead of voicing your opinion. Nobody liked to listen to an Ergi, and he in turn did not like the beatings that speaking out of order brought along.   
Second - He hated schooling with all his heart. 

So the following morning Loki woke up with the rise of the sun and threw up twice, his empty stomach producing nothing but sour bile before the maid arrived with three pairs of white, soft pants and a light breakfast.

He tried to smile at her and was glad when she left him alone to throw up a third time. 

No. 

He was not looking forward to those classes.

At all.


	5. A new life

As it turned out classes were much different in Asgard than in Jötunheimr. 

The tutor that Loki was introduced to was a small, resolute woman dressed in a white, flowing dress, her seemingly ancient face riddled with wrinkles and the traditional scars of her people.  
She took a long, hard look at the young Jötun standing in front of her, his body still small and with the soft rounding of a child, studied his tattoos and scars intently before she nodded and spoke.  
“My name is Edda Nerthus-dottir of Álfheimr. You are prince Loki Laufeyson I presume?”

Loki was confused, having expected a large Warrior to greet him, and he nodded, silently, intimidated. 

“Mmmm. Good.” She stared at him. “It is considered polite to speak when asked a question, but it will do for now.” Loki froze, his heart beating in his chest, shocked that he already made his first mistake. He lowered his head and waited for her to pull a rod or whip from her dress. He was suprised when she just nooded sharply at him as if he had answered her a question and beckoned him to follow her.  
“I am the head tutor of the peace-hostages here in Asgard. I will take you to your classes and explain what will be expected of you. If you have any questions you can just ask me, no need to wait.”

She turned and her bright grey eyes bore into him, making sure that he was following her.

“You can speak, yes?”

Loki felt hot, then cold, but forced himself to nod. She continued to stare at him and he swallowed hard, stumbling over his words as he answered.

“Yes. Yes, I can speak. I am sorry...”

Edda waved him off and continued walking, her resolute and surprisingly fast step belying her age.

“No matter. You may address me and the tutors as Teacher or Lady or Sir.” She looked at him as he tried to keep up with her quick stride as they left the buidling, crossing over a large, sandy courtyard. “The last two depend on the gender of a person. If you are not sure, you may ask.”

Loki was not sure if she was jesting or not, but her hard face gave away nothing, so he just nodded.  
“Yes, Teacher.”

“Mmmmmm. Just in case you are wondering, you can also call me Lady Edda.” She did not smile, but her eyes twinkled and Loki was now confident that she was making fun of him. But he kept his mouth shut and tried to keep up with her fast pace. She looked back at him and sighed.

“There are currently 63 peace hostages on the palace grounds, including you, and they come from all corners of the realms. The study halls here are some of the largest in Asgard, and we only work with the best lecturers that all the lands have to offer. Therefore we also have the most promising students of Asgard joining the schooling, peasants, merchants and nobles alike, to learn among you.  
As you can see the faculty area takes up its own wing complete with gardens, kitchens, arsenals, training rings, stables, dining areas and of course the large teaching rooms.”

Loki looked around, catching a glimpse of of the stables; there were three enormous black horses that were led by to his right and two smaller but broader wilderbeasts next to them.  
He realized he had slowed down and sped up to continue listing to Lady Edda, who was walking towards a large brick building in front of them. 

“You are expected to take part in the mandatory classes, just like the rest of the children. You will be given a schedule from your first Tutor, Hraesvelg, and your classes include Reading and Writing of the Olden Language, History of the Realms, Culture Studies, Mathematics, Philosophy, Weaponry, as well as Herbal studies and Arts. There are other courses you can choose to attend, but these depend on your preference and in some cases your abilities. You are asked to attend at least three of those. Again, Hraesvelg will give you the list, but some of those you can choose from are Poetry, Singing, Dancing, Healing, Specialized Weapons Training, Animal Husbandry, Swimming, Theater, Handcrafts, Falconry and Magic Studies. 

Edda stopped abruptly and Loki yelped as he stopped himself from running into her.

_Magic studies_

His whole body had gone cold and then hot when he had heard that. His brain stuttered to a stop and he could feel horror claw at him. 

Magic studies.

Once, when he was very young, just when his horns started to grow he felt something else building inside him, a power that he had not been able to explain, that was part of him just the way his arms or legs were part of him.  
He had been able to ….do things, open doors without touching them, make tiny things flicker in and out of existence, small birds or soft balls and such, and he had relished in and played with his new skill set like any child would.  
One day, proud of his accomplishments, he had shown one of his tricks to his brother Býleistr, beaming at him happily, unaware that this power, seiðr, was forbidden. 

_Olden Magic._

Býleistr had told his father, and Loki could still remember Laufey's face when he had him taken to the dungeons. Loki had stayed there until his horns fully emerged, many months in the cold darkness, beaten every day by a large Warrior who told him how seiðr was forbidden while the icen rod had whipped him again and again, beating into him how his magic was wrong, how it was abnormal and wicked. 

After that incident, hatred never left Laufey's face when he looked upon his youngest son and from that day on, whenever Loki felt this magic curl inside him, he pushed it down and ignored it, vowing to himself to never touch it again. 

“You are of the Mage's Cast, yes?” Loki blinked, realizing that Edda was standing in front of him, staring into his eyes. He could see a sparkle in her gaze, but he was not sure how to read it, whether it was pity or something else.  
His heart threatened to beat out of his chest and he felt cold sweat accumulate on his back, rolling down his spine. He forced down the shiver that threatened him and held his head higher.  
“No.” he croaked, hating how insecure his voice sounded. 

_Wrong._  
_Abnormal._  
_Wicked._

He could see how her eyes glide along his rounded markings, spiraling on his shoulders and stomach, circles on his cheeks and forehead, and realized that she was a teacher, that she probably _knew_ what his markings stood for, but it was too late.  
Loki hoped she would not have him beaten too harshly for his lie, but the fear of what his father would do to him if he ever found out that he told people he was a Mage.....

If he dared to _train_ in the Olden Magic....

He would have him locked away until the end of times.  
Loki was sure of it. 

The young icen prince stood still, feeling pearls of perspiration form and run down the sides of his face, caused partially by the stifling heat of Asgard and partially by fear.  
Edda fixed him with her eyes several seconds longer, then shrugged and turned to push open the large, wooden door in front of her. “No matter. You can join the classes if you want, but you will first have to submit to an evaluation of your abilities. Or you don't. It's up to you.”

Loki let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of relief. Edda threw him another glance but did not comment. 

They walked down a long hallway until they stopped in front of a door.

“This is Hraesvelg's class. I am going to introduce you and get one of the children to show you around some more after school.”  
Her fingers stopped on the wooden surface, staring at him.

“Questions?”

Loki shook his head, dazed. 

Edda shrugged again. 

“Good. I _loathe_ students that ask too many things. I will see you again in Culture Studies later, and don't forget if you are unclear about anything, you can ask any of the tutors.”  
She stared at him, and he was sure she was mocking him once more.  
“Or you don't. It's all up to you, Loki.”

She pushed the door open and Loki stepped into his new life.


	6. The tale of Laufey and Fárbauti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today there are two chapters cause 5 was kind of short.   
> Thanks so much to my beta uluka, any mistakes here are my own cause sometimes I still add stuff for last-minute changes. 
> 
> And I very much appreciate each and every kudos and comments, they keep me going! THANK YOU!
> 
> Anyway, this is the last full-chapter flashback into the history of Jotunheim, so enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

The Equilibrium between Mages and Warriors, which had been upheld since the beginning of time was lost and in the raw darkness of Jötunheimr only the fittest and strongest survived. The weak were enslaved and any offspring that showed the traits of the Mages were killed by the dominating caste of Alphas. 

Laufey was a cruel and merciless ruler and a great Warrior, besting many in the fights he set up.   
It was important for him to substantiate his power and strength to his people so they would accept him as their leader in a world of the forceful and strong. Furthermore he reintroduce the battles between equals to help his Warriors hone their strength and keep themselves nimble for any future war that might be upon them. 

Under Laufey-king's rule the strength of a Warrior was everything, honor and glory in one, and while the weak suffered greatly, the strong established a new patriarchy that was callous and ruthless. Laufey had decreed that any able-bodied Warrior was not to be disabled and forced into a life as an Ergi unless he had committed a crime, and those rules were accepted by the Frost Giants with little negation.  
Many of the Jötnar still alive had been born into the thousand-year war and knew little else, and the ones that were older had bitter memories of what used to be, knowing they could never go back to the olden times with the released ice storms of the Casket of Winters unleashed upon the land. 

They destroyed everything in their path. Crops, People, Livestock.   
And without the Casket they could never be contained again.

It was all the Mage's fault. 

Once the Mage's caste had been more or less eliminated, taking out their anger over their lot was the only thing that brought joy to some of of the Warriors, and sparring, fighting and testing each other's stealth and tenacity was greatly beneficial in those regards.  
Right after the war, mating fights had been common, the strong subjugating the weak; but once every Warrior had at least one Ergi, those fights died down. Sex was not as important as fighting, and in the new kingdom there was not enough food, so many of the new-born babes hardly made it past the first couple of winters. Spending time and energy on procreation when one could not feed one's own offspring was considered futile. 

So the sparring and fighting kept the Warriors strong and honed while the Ergi tried to grow crops in the once fertile lands and worked desperately on feeding the people with the little food that still grew. 

In the aftermath of the war Fárbauti, one of the great generals of Utgard-king and greatly beloved to his soldiers, dared to dispute Laufey's right to the throne. Fárbauti believed that Laufey-king was too harsh in his rulings and wanted to rebuild the broken realm on a more just system, and he challenged the king openly, a combat ensuing between the two of the largest Frost Giants of the Icen Realm that lasted for days.

The story tellers later said that these two mightiest of the Jötnar made the earth quake under their feet and silenced the storms around them with their fierce battle-cries, their blood staining the snows of the arena a deep black. Over many hours and days flesh was ripped, punches thrown and even bones broken, but the Giants continued to fight, their heavy breathing and angry roars muting all else. 

On the fifth day, late in the evening, Laufey and Fárbauti both bleeding from many wounds, the king managed to wrestle his opponent to his knees and with a mighty thrust pierced his horns through Fárbauti's shoulder, pinning the large Warrior to the ground, facedown. The Warrior's howl was immense, and instead of withdrawing Laufey ripped the mighty Fárbauti's horns from his skull using just his hands and raped him into Ergi-status in front of their soldiers.

It was a just punishment for any Frost Giant committing treason.

After having secured his place on the throne Laufey had Fárbauti thrown into into a dark cell deep within his dungeons, tied her and bred her for the next two hundred years until, finally, her heats started. She had lived a long life as an Alpha, and the switch to Ergi status was a slow one as her womb had lain dormant for more than three thousand years. 

When it was clear that Fárbauti was pregnant with Laufey's first child and heir, he had her released from her chains and allowed her free reign in his palace, giving her her own chamber, next to his.   
He had to beat her often and hard when she forgot her standing, but with the child growing in her belly so did her motherly instincts, and she learned to duck her head and be silent unless spoken to.   
The child she bore was large and strong, and Laufey chose the name Helblindi for him. He allowed his first mate to nurse his son until his horns started to emerge, sharp and straight, a pride to his father when he heard his first-born's fierce battle-cries echoing through the halls. 

It made Laufey softer, somewhat at least.   
However, no-one but Fárbauti noticed. 

Býleistr was the second of Laufey's sons and he was as strong and wild as his older brother. When his horns broke through the skin of his scalp they were straight and sharp, just as they were meant to be. He was wrestling and besting other children as of a young age, the two brothers often seen in the arena charging against each other, their still childishly-soft bodies generating hard muscles, their already sharp horns ripping deep wounds that Fárbauti would nurse silently, never scolding, never praising. She knew that praise coming from an Ergi would be worth nothing, and scolding a child for practicing what his father held in high regard would only get her beaten in turn.   
And she needed no more punishment than she had already recieved.   
Instead she stole little hugs and touches, dressed the wounds of her sons and was silently thankful that they still came to her when hurt, that they did not, yet, avoid her for being a weak, hornless Ergi. 

Laufey was proud of his sons and felt somewhat affecionate towards his first mate, a notion he repressed in public but did allow himself to indulge in when they shared a bed. In his chambers he spoke to her about the state of his kingdom and sometimes permitted her to speak and even listened to her thoughtful responses, suprised by the wisdom in some of her words. The longer he knew her the more did he long for her touch, the contentment he would find in her arms. Of course he still had to beat her when necessary, but his punishments were less harsh and less frequent than they used to be.   
And when the day came that he had to forbid her from touching her sons as not to sully them with her weakness, he felt almost guilty when he noted the sadness that swept over her features, even as she bowed her head and did as she was told. 

Laufey-king was happy when she became pregnant once more, almost a three hundred years later. He was sure that Fárbauti would relish in having a new babe, something she could coddle and touch for a long while before he would have to forbid it once more.

However, the last pregnancy turned out to be a difficult one. 

Loki was born in the night of one of the most severe storms the Icen Realm could remember, a small, frail child wailing weakly in the arms of his mother who would not stop bleeding.   
The healers came and went, and finally had Laufey called, the king resisting to be bothered with anything as lowly as childbirth until he was told that his first mate was dying.  
Fárbauti loved her smallest son the moment she laid eyes upon him, realizing immediately what the king would not understand until much later, that this little innocent carried the curse of the Mages within him.   
She held the tiny, mewling prince close her bossom, suppressing her tears as her life flooded out of her, and when Laufey arrived, anger painted over his features, she knew what she had to do.  
The king snarled when he saw his mate, ashen-grey due to the loss of blood, threatening the healers with imprisonment and even death if they could not stop the impending death of Fárbauti. The healers quaked with fear, knowing that no one could save the first Ergi from her fate, the thread that the Norns had woven into the Tapestry of Life at an end.  
Laufey crushed a healer's head when he heard the news and Fárbauti sent everyone away, and out of fear for their own lifes they listened to the voice of the Ergi. She waited until they were alone, her arms curled protectively around the smallest of her sons, cradling him as she called the king to her.   
He stood at her side for a while, staring down at her until he fell to his knees beside her, and with a soft voice she asked Laufey to protect her last son and raise him the way he did Helblindi and Býleistr. The king's soul flooded with dread as he realized that he would loose his mate and the knowledge that he loved her swamped and drowned him. He did not even achnowledge the babe, his eyes focused on Fárbauti, hand trembling as he reached for her. As he stroked her forehead, shivering under the onslaught of feelings he had suppressed for so long, he made an oath to raise the young prince and protect him. She smiled at him as she handed him her smallest son, naming him Loki, which signified an end as well as a new beginning. Laufey pressed the small child to his chest until he mewled under the pressure, and Fárbauti squeezed the king's hand weakly, reminding him to raise Loki as a strong Warrior, knowing that Laufey would soon realize that she had birthed a Mage into the house of the merciless king, that the babe would be a painful reminder of a past that Jötunheimr had tried to forget. 

She died silently and her open eyes broke slowly, and Laufey roared his pain into the night, the healers outside the door scattering at the sound, and the king only stopped when he heard the scared wails of his youngest prince.

It was the last time Laufey showed any grief over Fárbauti's death, and he had a wetnurse called to whom he silently handed the tiny Loki, leaving him in her custody.  
The king threw himself back into the hard labor of running a realm with the ferociousness that Fárbauti had managed to soften, if only for some time. Laufey's mannerism hardened once more and he refused to take another mate, not willing to ever let anyone that close to him again, to give his heart away, to allow himself to become _weak_. He refused to see his youngest son, feeling noting but anger when he was reminded that the small, weakling child took his Ergi away from him. 

When Loki's horns started to emerge just as he began to walk the wet nurse was horrified. The pearly white tips were curling into themselves and she realized the implication that lay within them. She fled into the night, frightened what Laufey would do to her when he realized that his youngest son was showing visible signs that he was of the Mage's caste.   
The child was found by a Warrior as he was wandering the palace, crying of hunger, falling silent when he was picked up and brought in front of his father.

Laufey's face was a mask when he saw Loki, a hushed silence settling in the throne room as his advisers and guards realized the significance of the curled horns the young prince sported.   
They all expected Laufey-king to have the child executed or abandoned into the snow, but Laufey could not forget the oath he had made, the last thing he had said to his first mate.  
He realized that she held power over him, even then. 

And while hate and anger flared up in his heart that one of the Mage's caste would be born into his house and take the life of Fárbauti, he knew he would not be able to go against her will. He would have to raise Loki just as he had promised her. 

So, to everyone's astonishment, Laufey did not kill his youngest son but had Loki publicly tattooed and branded with the visible signs of an Ergi. Instead of the heavy, pointed arrows and spears that his sons Helblindi and Býleistr sported, he had marked the youngest prince with the swirls and circles of the Mages, of the lowest of the low in the cold realm. 

He had with this motion publicly denounced his son, for a Mage, an Ergi, could never be king. 

And while his people could not understand why Laufey would not kill the humiliation of his house, everyone could now see what he was even without looking at his horns. 

The shame of Jötunheimr. 

Laufey felt nothing but hatred and contempt in his heart for Loki, feeling the anger flare within him every time he laid eyes upon him, the creature that killed Fárbauti, that probably somehow laid a spell upon her, forcing the king to swear that he would live. 

But he did not kill his young, weakling son.

Instead, when the time had come, he sent him to Asgard as a peace hostage.


	7. A monster in their midst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, sorry about last week, I was kind of late and forgot that a beta may need more than 24 hrs to check my writing. Sigh. But at least next week's chapter is done as well, so there's that. 
> 
> Please note that any time I mention Jotnar, it is the incorrect and derogatory term used by non-Frost Giants, either by mistake or as an insult. People that know the pronunciation and are politically correct / friendly as well as Frost Giants themselves will use the term Jötun or Jötnar. I hope that kind of makes sense. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks to my lovely beta uluka!
> 
> Remember comments and kudos are love and keep every fanfic writer going!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Loki did not trust the peace that settled upon his days.   
Not one bit.

He realized fairly quickly that the classes he took were interesting, much more compelling than he had ever imagined, and there were very few beatings, if any at all. His deep-seated hatred of schooling was slightly diminished, but the the child-prince was always expecting that he would slip up, do something wrong and be punished accordingly. 

And yet the first couple of days after his arrival went by as if cloaked in a haze.

Loki kept his head down and his eyes glued to the floor, hardly listening to his lectures as he waited for something, _anything_ to happen.  
He was sure that the Allfather would soon realize his mistake, would recognize the oversight in allowing the humiliation of Jötunheimr to walk his halls, Loki's circular tattoos and brandings diminishing anyone that put sight upon him. Loki waited for Odin to have him pulled out of the classroom and throw him into prison or, worse, send him back to the Icen Realm.  
On the other hand Loki was anxious that his father, who by now must have heard how the Ergi-prince was taken in and treated like a valuable hostage instead of having been incarcerated, would call him back and punish him for ruining his plans of insulting Asgard. That he would have to go back to his tiny, dark chamber, being despised and mocked by everyone around him until he came of age to be ergid by one of the Alpha Warriors of his father's choosing. 

So Loki waited.   
Waited for something to happen.   
Anything.

A day went by.   
And another. 

The young prince wound up tighter, could hardly eat, did not sleep. 

A week went by.  
And another. 

And nothing happened. 

Finally Loki allowed himself to exhale, daring to hope that he would not be ripped from his new surroundings any time soon. So he lifted his head and started to take part in the life Asgard offered. 

x

As time passed Loki realized that, while he was a hostage just like the other children, he was still an outsider. In the beginning he was a novelty and the other students stared at the uniqueness of his blue skin and the foreignness of the tattoos and markings, the sparkling gleam of his red eyes. However when he walked among them, they hushed their conversations and quietly parted their ranks to let him through, and no one offered him a hand or a smile when he stepped into a room. 

He quickly realized why, for he heard the whispers behind his back, picked up the names they called him. 

Beast.   
Animal.   
Monster.   
_Jotun._

For all the hostages had heard stories of the gruesome Frost Giants that stood more than 4 m tall and feasted on the flesh of little children, mares told by mothers and wet-nurses meant to keep the young from doing what was forbidden. The tales they had been told were horrifying, and while Loki was still small and childlike, it was the dark fables they associated with him when they saw his blue skin and blood-red eyes, the traditional scars and white horns, the cold that his body brought along wherever he went.  
He was one of the monsters that they had heard of at the fireplaces at night.  
A nightmare that had taken form. 

And Loki read the disgust and sometimes fear in their features, heard them whispering and laughing, and as time passed they mocked him openly when he walked by.

For children could be cruel. 

And he was not welcome to the games they played in the scorching sun of Asgard during their leisure times. 

Monster.   
Jotun. 

Worthless. 

Still, Loki had been a survivor since the moment he was born, and he straightened his shoulders at their cruel words, pushed his chin up and walked away like the son of a king should. Being despised and looked down upon was something he was familiar with, and he knew he could handle it.   
In some ways it almost felt like home.   
Loki-prince fell back into the shadows just the way he used to, watching and learning in silence, finding pleasure in harmless mischief that was never traced back to him. 

But he was still a child and it was so very hard not to cry himself to sleep at night. 

x

As the weeks and months passed in Asgard, Loki surprisingly found something that brought him some kind of gratification, and that was knowledge. 

Loki took solace in learning. 

There was so much information he received in the classes, information about the different realms and their cultures, their languages, their traditions and sagas. He learned that the depth of the universe was calculable, how music and maths were closely related, the types of philosophies known, how to compose poetry, how life was created, how stars were born.   
There was so much wisdom to be learned and Loki felt like a sponge that took everything in, always hungry for more.

The young prince of the Jötnar spent much of his free time pondering the things taught by his tutors, daring even to ask pointed questions once he had realized that he would not be punished for them. During recess he would sit in the shadows under the trees and consider everything he learned, watching silently as the other children played on the cobbled stones. 

Every now and then he would stay back after class to complete his notes and contemplate all the questions he had not asked, taking them down in his fastidious, clean handwriting. 

One day as he stayed back after an especially challenging mathematics class, he was caught too deep in thought to overhear Lady Edda step up to his desk. He kept on churning questions in his head and took them down, and only when the tutor cleared her throat did he look up.   
Loki's felt a stab of unease at his teacher standing in front of him, and he wondered whether he had done something wrong or if he was to be scolded for staying inside the classroom during recess. 

Lady Edda stared down at him, making Loki feel incredibly small, and in her authoritative voice she ordered him to follow her. He stood slowly, leaving his notes for the next class and did as he was told, apprehension gnawing in his guts.   
For a moment he feared that Odin or his father had finally called for him, and the thought made him tremble as he quietly trailed after her, along bright corridors, feet padding on cold stones.  
He kept his head low, not daring to look at anyone passing their way in fear that they could read the concern painted over his features.

They took a turn and another, and in just a few minutes Lady Edda stopped in front of a heavy looking double door. Loki swallowed and stared at it before squinting at his tutor, trying to read the look on her face, but she did not return his gaze. Instead she raised her hand, and at the slightest touch of her fingers the doors swung open. 

Loki turned his head and his mouth dropped in awe when his gaze fell on a large, high-ceilinged room filled with shelves that were stacked, from floor all the way to the top, with tens of thousands of books and scrolls. He let his eyes wander along the white marble floors and walls, following the many rows of sturdy, wooden shelves to each side, every possible space covered in books, in _knowledge_.They stretched all the way to the vaulted ceiling, and everywhere there were small staircases everywhere leading to a narrow balustrade that encircled the higher areas, which could not be reached otherwise.

The Jötnar did not notice the rare smile that slipped over Lady Edda's lips as he entered slowly into the cold, silent room, eyes wide with wonder at the sight laid out before him. 

So much knowledge.  
So much _wisdom_.

He jumped when his tutor touched his shoulder, having forgotten for a moment that she was here with him. She smiled thinly, her eyes sparkling as she told him that he had free access to the library any time he wished to, and that he was allowed to take any 10 books to his room at any time.  
The young prince swallowed, feeling almost dizzy but trying to concentrate as she explained the index system of the books, cataloged by theme, topics, realms, authors. She pointed out the numeric organization, letters and numbers etched and brightly colored on dark wood.  
It was a lot to take in, but he leaned in hungrily as she opened a tall cabinet, pulling out drawers filled with small pieces of square papers, explaining how to read them to find what he was looking for. It was a clever system, and when she finally asked him if he understood, he nodded, tentatively.

Lady Edda flashed another rare smile, gave him a curt nod. “Very well then. I shall leave you to it, Loki. You have another half hour before your next class.” 

And she left him.   
Alone.   
With thousands of books. 

Loki stared up into the high vault above him, the air golden with flying specks of dust dancing in the sunlight.   
He felt something that was foreign to him.   
Loki believed it was _happiness_.

x

In the following days and weeks the young Frost Giant devoted much of his free time to the peaceful halls of the library, roaming the silent rows of books smelling of dust and ancient knowledge. He let his fingers run carefully along their leather backs, some thicker or taller, some already breaking with age, but each one beautiful as they held whole new worlds that he could only imagine.   
During his breaks, Loki would most often be seen with a book in his hand, cradling it like a precious babe, reading with a wrinkled forehead, turning the pages reverently, as if in prayer. 

It did not help him with his popularity.   
But Loki did not care.   
He had his books.   
What did he need friends for when he had the wisdom of the universe under his fingertips?


	8. The insult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just do you know, all of this is still kind of prologue before we get to the real story, which is will be Thunderfrost with all its ups and downs. Maybe 1-2 more chapters before we get there....  
> In this chapter, however, Thor is an adolescent dick. Now in human years Loki is about 8 - 10 years old and Thor around 15, so they have a couple of hundred years between them (for remember, they are Gods in their own right living about 5000 – 10,000 years).
> 
> Thanks goes out always and forever to my beta uluka. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are love and are super mega extra appreciated. 
> 
>  
> 
> xx

The first time Loki was invited to one of the large feasts was roughly 8 months after he had arrived in Asgard.  
It was also the first time he saw Thor again since the day of his arrival.

The students had been informed about the upcoming festivities four days in advance, and Loki was worried almost instantly, for he did not have any formal attire appropriate of a prince of Jötunheimr at such a grand affair.  
Fulla, the giggly, yet patient young maid that tended to him, suggested that he write a letter to Laufey-king to ask for the ceremonial robes he had left behind. Loki was somewhat soothed by the idea and he did as was recommended.

The next three days passed quickly without any message or acknowledgment of his request, and Loki realized that his father would not send him what he had asked for. 

The young prince suffered a bout of anxiety, feeling he could not represent his realm in his every-day clothes, and Fulla soothed the young Jotun's nerves by asking the castle's seamstress to turn a pair of his pants into something more suitable.  
When his maid returned, his finest white trousers were embellished with a thin web of leather straps swaying from his hips, weighed down by golden stones. She had also brought a new white leather pauldron that covered one of his shoulders, lightly embroidered with golden thread, held in place with more leather straps. 

Loki stared at the clothes, knowing that they were somewhat suitable, but he still found them to be a mockery of his real ceremonial attire. He missed his thickly embroidered, billowy long pants, thinly felted from the pelts of the Icen Wolves, with hundreds of white-golden chains attached to them, weighed down by ivory from the tusks of the Great Beasts. The pauldron was a poor replacement for the silky wolf pelt that usually fell over his left shoulder, held in place by thick leather straps, adorned with a golden brooch.  
But he tried to appreciate the effort Fulla had put into his clothes, so he smiled weakly and thanked her.  
The day of the feast she took the time to braid Loki's hair in the fashion of the Frost Giant nobility, weaving in white leather, weighing it down with more golden stones she attached to the ends of the braids. 

Despite all the effort, Loki was painfully aware that the only _real_ status symbol he owned and wore were the thick golden rings on the base of his horns. He knew, of course, that most of the others would not realize that most of the symbols of his status as prince were missing, but he himself knew.  
And he felt naked and vulnerable when Fulla finished dressing him and wished him a good feast. 

 

x

The large festival was held in honor of the Thunderer and his Warriors returning from a victorious battle in Svartálfheimr against the Dark Elves, and it took place in one of the largest dinning halls Loki had ever seen. More than 1000 men and women were invited and streamed into the enormous halls, ranging from Asgard's nobility, honored warriors; to the peace-hostages and even respected merchants and important citizens of the realm.

Loki felt torn between nerves and excitement as he made his way to the feast, and when he stepped into the dinning hall he stopped and stared at the view in front of him. The grand hall was seemingly endless, dark polished stone floors stretching underneath, with the large windows and glass ceiling opening the view to the stars of the night sky. Crystal chandeliers high above held thousands of candles, and long, wooden tables were set in lengthy rows, the table at their head holding the royal family and the most important guests and warriors.  
Loki swallowed as finely-clothed people poured in all around him, and his eyes roamed the crowd until he finally saw one of his tutors sitting to his left, and he made his way there.

The long dinner tables he passed arched under the weight of a variety of meats, ranging from boars, hares and stags; from pheasants to chickens. There were breads baked with all sorts of nuts and grains, and common and rare fruits held in large, golden bowls. Silver platters held all sorts of cheeses, some in the shape of the animals they came from, goats and sheep, buffalo and wilder-beast.  
The places were set with golden dishes, sharp cutting knives and colorful glass goblets, and servants walked along the rows holding jugs filled with mead and wines. 

Loki took a seat between two other students that deigned to ignore him, and he let his eyes roam through the grand hall, taking in as much as he could. 

Before the feast started, Thor gave a short speech thanking his Warriors for fighting alongside him, his rich baritone easily comprehensible even further down the hall where Loki sat.  
And then the Odinson declared the festivities to begin. 

Within seconds the hall was filled with loud voices and laughter, many people leaning in instantly to cut from the slabs of meat using their knives and grabbing other delicacies lined along the table. Loki took a deep breath and waited, slightly overwhelmed by all the commotion happening around him. He focused his attention on the minstrels and story tellers that now made their rounds through the vast halls, entertaining with the stories of the Thor the Golden, the Warrior Three and Sif but also of Odin and Asgard's Berserkers and their countless victories. 

He ate from the succulent, gamey meats and dark bread, drank the light, sweet wine of Álfheimr and plucked at cheeses from goats of the vast meadows of Asgard. Loki had gone to bed hungry many a night growing up, and the amount of food doled out and its extravagance were dizzying to him. 

Loki knew people were staring at him. 

The young Jötnar noted their whispering and sometimes even the loud conversations about the bright blue prince of the Frost Giants in their midst, the reluctant hostage, a reminder of one of Odin's great victories. One of the minstrels even sang about the thousand-year war, and Loki tried to ignore the pointed stares of the others when the singing woman passed by, voice loud and clear.  
Loki, of course, understood how outlandish he was to the rest of the guests.  
Almost all of the Asgardians were used to visitors and peace-hostages from different realms, but Jötunheimr had always been secluded and many had never seen a Frost Giant before in their life.  
Of course they had heard the stories and listened to the songs, some may even have read about Jötnar in books. But Loki was aware that only few saw him as an equal, and it showed. 

The young prince sat still and did his best ignoring the pointed fingers and open stares, but as the night carried on he realized how mead and wine drunk in generous amounts lowered the inhibition of soldiers and guests alike. At some point the people passing would stop behind him and let their fingers run along his skin and his marking, stroke over his hair to feel its softness and comment about the Jotun sitting in their midst as if he was not even there.  
Loki tensed every time, mouth set in a thin line, throwing angry red-eyed glances whenever a warm hand touched his cold skin and growling at the whispered insults behind his back.  
He sat as if on hot coals, every passing every minute more uncomfortable, hoping that dessert would soon be served, for only then would it be proper for him to leave without intending insult. 

He heard the booming laugh of the Odinson and he ducked his head when he realized that the Golden one was walking along the tables with one of his warriors, making idle conversation with the guests.  
Loki remembered how Thor had reacted to him when he first arrived, calling him insult and demanding his imprisonment, and he wished he could disappear or, at the least, not be noticed.

He did not want a confrontation, not here, not now.  
Actually, not ever. 

However, it was not meant to be. 

Loki, nibbling on a piece of bread, threw quick glances over towards the Odinson every now and then, and he could almost pinpoint the moment when Thor picked him out of the crowd, tugging his friend at the sleeve and sauntering towards him. 

The two Asgardians stopped right behind him, and Loki could not pretend to ignore the Golden God when he spoke. “Look, Fandral, this is the one I have been telling you about. The insult.” The warrior let out a low laugh. “Hello there, Loki.” Thor's voice was slighting, and the Jötnar noted that he had omitted calling him prince as would have been proper. 

Loki gritted his teeth as he turned slowly, all too aware that the conversations around them had hushed, many eyes upon them. He gave a curt nod towards the Odinson, keeping his voice steady. 

“Prince Thor?”

Thor sneered down at him, and now it was almost silent around them.  
The Odinson turned to his friend, grinning widely. “This is the runt I was telling you about! See the rounded markings and curled horns? They imply that he is going to be an Ergi one day. Meaning one of those enormous Alphas will fuck him because he won't be able to fight them off. Can you imagine that runt with one of those Warriors? I would pay to watch that.”

Loki felt himself flush a brilliant, dark blue, a spear of ice-cold dread embedding itself in his spine.  
_How dare he?_  
Bile rose in his throat, his anger mixing with mortification, suddenly hyper-aware of the laughs and whispers around him spreading like a wildfire. He kept his features under control and forced himself to focus, his eyes steady on Thor who towered above him.  
His primal instinct told him to lower his horns, ram them into the Odinson's soft skin and to rip his head back, disemboweling him. 

But his instincts were shit because his horns were curled and blunt at the end.  
Also it would not do to kill the host. 

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, fisting his hands at his sides.  
This was not new.  
He had taken insult before, at his father's own court.  
Loki told himself that this was nothing, that he did not _care_ what these soft-skinned, pink Asgardians thought of him. 

He opened his eyes slowly and swallowed down the insults lying on the tip of his tongue, all hostile and highly disagreeable. He glowered at Thor, mouth set in a thin line. Loki had to remind himself that he was a _hostage_ caught behind his enemies lines, that he had so far not been kept in prison and he liked to keep it that way.  
He was at the Allfather's mercy.  
And the brute in front of him was Odin's only son. 

Thor watched the Frost Giant's internal struggle closely. When Loki kept his mouth shut he smirked unpleasantly, opening his mouth to spill more abuse when a regal woman stepped up from behind him, laying her white hands onto the golden skin of his thickly muscled arm. 

“Son.” Her voice was soft yet strong and she smiled gently at her offspring.  
Loki realized the woman before him was Frigga from Vanaheimr, the first mate of the Allfather, blonde curls carefully coiffed, her elegant golden gown underlining her status. 

The Odinson took a step back and respectfully bowed his head.  
“Mother.”

Frigga nodded back and slowly turned towards Loki, her gentle smile now directed towards him. 

“And I see we have a new _guest_ among us. Thor, why don't you introduce him to me?”

Thor's lips thinned and Loki realized with a start that the Thunderer's mother had just reprimanded her son in front of the whole court, reminding him of his duties in the ancient ways of hospitality. Which did _not_ include shaming your guests in front of the other patrons. 

Loki flushed hot and stood, facing Frigga, Mother of Gods. 

“Mother, this is Loki-prince, Son of Laufey, born of Jotunheim. Peace-hostage.”  
Thor spat out the last word with much disdain, but Frigga only smiled gently. 

Loki tried not to grimace at the wrong pronunciation of his realm, instead inclining his head, once more painfully aware of the stark silence around them. 

Everybody was watching. 

Frigga nodded back at him, her eyes never leaving his face, features soft and warm.

“I welcome you to my house and hall, son of Laufey-king.” She leaned forward to pick up his cup of wine and took a small sip, then offering it to him in the olden ritual of hospitality. “I offer you the peace and protection of this house as long as you dwell within it. May you find food when you hunger and drink when you thirst and a bed when you tire. May you find warmth when you freeze and be refreshed when you swelter. May your mind find peace in this house and may your body be free of harm.”

Loki tensed at the traditional words of welcome and he hesitated before he took the offered cup from Frigga, eyes flicking to Thor who towered above her.  
The Odinson's face was dark with anger as he starred down at Loki, but he held quiet.  
The Icen prince took the cup with shaking hands and then slowly lifted it to his lips, waiting for someone to stop him, to slap it out of his hands, to keep him from accepting the ancient binding of protection of a guest. 

No one did. 

Loki drank the wine sweet. He felt strangely light-headed, remembering that he had kept himself from drinking too much to not feel the effects of the potent beverage, but at this point he was pretty sure his reaction had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Frigga was still smiling, waiting for his reply.

“I thank you for your offer of protection.....” Loki stumbled, searching his brain frantically for the correct words, having only heard them once a couple of weeks ago in one of his classes.  
He had never been taught the rights of the guest at home, for there were few visitors in Laufey-king's halls.  
And none that would request the olden vows of hospitality.  
For they were not freely given in Jötunheimr.  
Not any more. 

Loki blushed again, a deep, dark shade of blue blooming on his cheeks and spilling down to his chest as he heard people behind him starting to snigger.

Thor murmured “Beast.”, grinning at Fandral, who suppressed a laugh.

Frigga tutted at her son, then turned back to Loki.  
“Repeat after me, Loki-prince.” Her eyes were kind, and she bowed down a little, keeping her voice low. “I accept your offer of protection and swear that no harm will come between us. I will eat when I hunger and drink when I thirst. I swear to keep the peace within your halls. May your life be long and fruitful and may your children never suffer.”

Loki released a deep breath and repeated her words gratefully, staring into her kind blue eyes.

When he was done she offered him another smile and turned back to her son.

“Come, Thor, you owe your mother a dance.”

Loki sat down slowly as the other guests stared at him in silence, and it took a long moment before they turned back to their meals, excited voices picking up all around him. There was no doubt that many were discussing what just had happened, but Loki ignored the conversations and even the side-way glances of the other students.  
Loki waited impatiently until dessert was served a little later, noting that while people still walked by closely, no one touched him anymore.  
That was at least something. 

He took a token bite of a random, honey-soaked pastry before he stood and said his goodbyes, head held high as he stepped between rows and rows of people that gawked at him as he passed.

When he was back in his room, sitting down on his bed, he realized what Thor had done. The Odinson had spoken of his status of an Ergi, of who and _what_ Loki was, something that he had been able to keep hidden from the other students so far.

It would not make his life any easier in Asgard.

He was sure of it.


	9. Visiting Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the blessings of all the worlds go out to my amazing beta uluka. 
> 
> x

The classes after the feast were awkward for Loki, to say the least.  
His classmates stared at him when he entered a room, one or two of them a disgusted look on their faces, and the prince of the Frost Giants had decided to stare them down instead of cowering and showing them the shame they were expecting of him. 

So he was an Ergi.  
Or at least he was going to be, once sexually matured.  
There was little he could do about the fact, and it was not like he would be losing any friends because of it. 

He was lonely already and always had been. 

All he had left was his pride, and he was damn well going to fight for it. 

Loki had been worried that Thor's remarks would invite more than just taunts and harsh words from his fellow students, but it seemed that Frigga's show of hospitality had helped immensely in that regard. He glowered at them, and the children kept quiet and let him be. 

It was a bit of a surprise, but by no means an unpleasant one. 

x

It was just a couple of days later, Loki was walking down a cool corridor with a couple books in his hand, that three students, older and towering above him, stepped into his path.  
The young Jötun hesitated in his step, watching the children with a weariness that came from many years of being pushed around by others, larger than him.  
The oldest girl, a tall, thin elf from Álfheimr grinned maliciously as she sauntered towards Loki. To her left was a a stocky young dwarf and to her right an agile student whose light green eyes glittered venomously in her dark face. 

“Ah! What do we have here? If it isn't the Ergi!” The Elf stepped into the Icen prince's way as he tried to walk past her, his books pulled close to his chest. 

Loki glowered back at the three students, fully aware that they not only outnumbered him but also were much older and stronger. He swallowed the disdainful reply that lay on his tongue and returned the girl's cruel gaze without blinking. “Excuse me, I would like to get past you.”

The Elf stepped up even closer, towering above the small Frost Giant, glaring into his red eyes.  
“So, Ergi, we read up about your markings! And we discovered something really interesting, 'cause in the books it says that under Laufey-king's rule your rounded markings cancel out your status, no matter what it be. And I would say that means that you are not really a prince, now, are you? So seeing that you are a nothing, sending you to Asgard, it is really a bit of an insult, isn't it? And wasn't that what Lord Thor called you? An insult?”

Loki swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat, eyes narrowing at the disrespectful words being thrown at him. He wanted to taunt, snarl at her, tell her that he was surprised she could even read.  
But he bit his lip, not evading her gaze.  
This was not the time or the place.  
The three were so much bigger than him, and he had learned the hard way not to talk back. 

After all, the elf was known to push younger, smaller students around. 

He glowered up at her. “Let me through.”

Her cruel smile faltered and she stepped up even closer. “You did not answer my question, Jotun. Are you or are you not an insult? Hmmm?” She gave him a light shove and Loki stumbled backwards, unprepared for the assault.

“Also, how was it that Lord Thor called you an Ergi? How can it be that you already wear the marks of an argr? I read that to be punished with the signs of an Ergi in Jotunheimr, one has already been fucked! And you are but a child! Are Jotuns beasts that fuck their children?”

Loki snarled at her. 

She gave him another shove and he fell backwards onto the hard floor, books flying from his hands. He looked up to see the three students tower above him, when the dwarf looked up at a noise down the hallway. He stiffened and stepped back, his voice low, but urgent.  
“Eriswen, Sir Aeten is coming our way. Let's go.”

The Elf glared down at him, and Loki could see that she wanted to continue her assault, to force him to give up more information.  
He was pretty sure that she wanted to see him cry.  
Her eyes flicked up, and she saw the tutor that her dwarfen friend had pointed out and backed off slightly. She looked back down and spat between his feet. “Until next time, Jotun.” She grinned menacingly, and then nodded at the others, all three of them backing off and turning to walk away, slinking around a corner. 

Loki growled and slowly picked himself off the floor, collecting his books carefully, dismayed when he noted that one of them had a small fracture running down its old leather back. By the time the Tutor had walked up to him, Loki was already standing again, indignation burning in his chest. The elder asked a couple of worried but pointed questions, and Loki evaded his gaze and mumbled something under his breath, cheeks burning bright blue.  
There was no use in being a tattle-tale on top of everything else.  
After a while the teacher let him be and left him, and Loki could continue his way to his next classes. 

But the incident gnawed at his thoughts for the rest of the day and in the evening thoughts twirled in his head like a malström, keeping him from falling asleep for a very long time. 

The three students were stronger because they had been bigger than him.  
They would have beaten him and there was nothing he would have been able to do.  
But a Frost Giant was not helpless.  
Loki's physical strength may have been inferior, but there were other ways a Jötnar of the Mage's caste could defend himself.  
If only he knew how.

The next day Loki stepped up to Lady Edda and asked to try out for the magic classes.  
He was accepted the same day and the following afternoon attended his first lecture. 

If he had to stay behind enemy lines with no friends, he at least wanted to be able to defend himself. 

After all, his father did not need to know. 

Preferably not ever. 

 

x

 

Time passes quickly when someone picks up a routine, and Loki started to enjoy most of his classes (apart from the weapons training-he was really not too fond of that), and he spent his time learning everything he could. There was a lot to do for a hungry young mind.  
Soon enough, 6 years had gone by, time flying faster than the young prince of the Frost Giants had ever imagined. 

And then a visitor day was upon them. 

It was a long-standing tradition for Odin to hold a visiting day for the peace-hostage's families and close friends every 10 years or so, allowing parents and guardians to ensure the welfare of their children and to cement diplomacy, if necessary. 

During the event a large feast was held, and the visitors had a chance to look at the compounds where the children were schooled, the rooms they resided in and, if requested, discuss politics with the Allfather. But mostly the festivities were meant to give everyone the chance to eat, drink and catch up with each other's lives and share stories from home. 

Mothers and fathers from all the lands streamed into Asgard during this time, for the most powerful of all the realms asked for many hostages. It was an old tradition that the Allfather honored, to ask for fealty in form of children of the rich and powerful, of friends and enemies alike. Noble hostages strengthened relationships and bound whole dynasties to Asgard; when they were forced to send a second or third child to learn about the customs and habits of Odin's people. Many of the students would later use their knowledge to act as ambassadors between the realms, knowing the ways of more than one world. 

At the same time asking for peace hostages from kingdoms that were enemies or at least took an unfriendly stance, forced a truce upon lands that would otherwise be less inclined to bow to the Allfather's wishes and demands. 

Holding a princess or prince captive was a powerful tool. 

Each and every one of the children were there to secure peace, whether it was in the future or the present.  
One way or another. 

x

As the visitor day arrived, Asgard and its whole army was on high alert, a vast amount of soldiers lining the walls of the dining halls, archers placed along roof tops, sword-fighters situated all along the gardens and the rainbow bridge, where the guests arrived.  
Strict rules of hospitality had to be followed and were closely supervised.  
Odin knew about his strengths, but he did not take unnecessary chances.  
Not if it could be avoided.

The day that the visitors were to arrive, the peace-hostages were led into a large waiting room early in the morning, where they were to welcome their families. 

Loki had gone to bed feeling slightly ill and woke up with an impending sense of dread and reluctance spreading in his stomach. He knew for certain that his father Laufey would not make the effort to come himself, would not set foot into Asgard, a realm he hated above all else.  
The home of the enemy.  
But Loki thought that his father might want to get some feedback about the realm from his youngest son, hear about traditions and the way of life, information that the Jötnar usually had no access to.  
Loki had not been able to gather any knowledge that would be valuable, of course, such as the strength of the army, Asgard's wealth or treaties, or the number of Berserkers under the Allfather's command. But the Icen prince knew a little about the peace-hostages and which war-lords were at odds with the Allfather and had to pay fealty. He knew who was happy and who was not, he knew what other realms were struggling under the mighty power that Asgard forced upon all of them.  
So Loki hoped that his father would send one of his trusted Warriors or maybe even one of his brothers to speak to him, so he himself could hear how his home was faring.  
He was as homesick as any child would be, ripped from his known surroundings, wishing he could go back. 

When the children were walked into the large waiting room illuminated by enormous windows and swaying chandeliers, Loki slipped in last and grabbed a seat far in the back. Soon the doors started to open and parents and guardians poured into the well-lit room, shouts of happiness and the patter of children's feet filling the air, boys and girls falling into outstretched arms, sometimes even being picked up and swung around, caressed and kissed. 

In the chaos of the welcoming, Loki watched the differences between families and cultures, fascinated. He noted a pair of Light Elves arriving, tall and arrogant-looking, and a small boy stood silently, making his way towards them and giving them a low bow before they pressed their foreheads against each other in silence. There were Dwarfen folk that were extremely noisy, whole families streaming into the room, children picked up and passed around, from parents to aunts and uncles, grandparents and even cousins. The Dark Elves did not touch, they just nodded at each other and the children followed their elders out of the room, their eyes glued to the floor. The Vanir gave their offspring long hugs and then went down to their knees, kissing their sons or daughters on their mouth and blessing them, before leaving to the dinning area.  
Loki passed his time by watching, suppressing the envy that built with each happy child greeting their visitors. 

As the morning grew older, fewer and fewer guests streamed into the hall, and as noon came and went, only 3 of the peace-hostages had been left sitting and waiting.  
One was a haggard girl, a silent Dark Elf from Svartálheimr, the other a weeping boy-child that Loki knew nothing about. The last was, of course, himself.  
The icy certainty that he would be left all alone, that no one was coming for him increased as the minutes trickled by. Loki kept his eyes glued to the shadows at his feet, moving minimally as the time passed, as the minutes and finally hours trickled away, like sand falling through an hour glass. 

At one point the Dark Elf stood from her seat abruptly, spat on the floor and left without another glance. The weeping of the boy increased. 

Loki wondered if he should leave as well, but he felt paralyzed, could not get himself to stand and exit, just like that. What if someone was still coming? What if they were just late, held up by something he could not fathom? He knew that _if_ someone came to see him and he was not here waiting for them, it would be an incredible slight, an affront he did not want to cause. And what if his father decided, last minute, to show up after all? And he was not here to welcome him? He could only imagine Laufey-king's fury that would result from such blatant disrespect. 

So Loki sat in silence as time passed, trying to ignore the loud festivities from the hall next door.

He waited. 

And waited. 

When the door opened again Loki stood, almost instinctively, and then the small boy shouted and ran towards and elder, apologetic lady who turned out to be his mother. 

The young prince watched the last tearful family reunion and sat again, feeling numb. 

Dusk came and dipped the room into a gloomy twilight.  
Loki's stomach started to growl. 

But he waited. 

At one point the door to the hall was opened and Loki lifted his head to see Thor standing there, staring down at him, grinning a nasty smile when he realized who the lone figure was.  
His voice was full of apparent glee. “wanted neither here nor there, are you, Jotun?”

Loki stared at the Odinson, his face a cool mask.  
Thor laughed cruelly, a sound that haunted the Frost Giant as the Asgardian closed the door behind him, leaving him alone in the too-large, empty room with his thoughts.

Slowly Loki stood, absentmindedly patting down the creases in his trousers, straightening his spine. He ignored the enticing smells of the dinner as he stepped out of the waiting area and with measured steps made his way back to his room.

It was the last time Loki ever waited for someone to come for him at the visiting days.

It was of no matter.

For no one ever came to see him.


	10. Peace and Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! First of all, I would love to thank everyone who had been leaving so many, enthusiastic comments, they mean the world to me.  
> Also an enormous thanks to my beta uluka, for putting up with my complete lack of coma-usage and helps me wrestle down my need to write überlong sentences because my German background wills it so. However, sometimes I just can't help myself.....
> 
> I hope you enjoy this extra-long chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

During the next 200 years, Loki's limbs stretched, his body blossoming from that of a thin child into a slender, tall youth with burning red eyes and hair that reached all the way down into the small of his back. His markings, which had always seemed to overcrowd his childish body, now fit themselves nicely onto his frame, painting his dips and crevices. His cheekbones lengthened and his nose was now jutting out sharply from where it had once been buried in baby fat. His horns stretched and thinned at the tips, and while he still looked foreign, Loki was now familiar enough to the people of Asgard to offer an exciting air of exoticism whenever he passed. 

Furthermore, Loki had built vast knowledge in the art of Olden Magic. It showed in the ease he handled his seiðr, not caring to hide his powers when he roamed the halls of the castle. He was seen conjuring small fires in the palm of his hand when walking home at night, he melted into the shadows when he did not want to be seen, and in bouts of mischief he would create illusions of small creatures, brick walls or other apparitions out of thin air to fool or spook the ones around him.

He was a beautiful, mischievous, smart and showing promise to be an incredibly powerful sorcerer.  
Loki, once he grew out of childhood, turned out to be desirable. 

Wherever he walked, eyes would follow him, but now instead of ignoring or slighting the Icen prince, Asgardians and peace-hostages alike started seek the Frost Giant out. They offered small talk laced with words of praise or admiration, held seats in the classes or at dinner tables for him, even opened doors in his way when he walked down a corridor. 

It was utterly ridiculous. 

Loki realized, of course, that men and women alike were wooing him, but he ignored and even scoffed at any advances, for they had only started once people realized he was physically appealing to them.  
As if his appearance now made him worth more than when he was a child. 

Such nonsense. 

So, in the next couple of years and decades, whenever someone approached him with a flower or a gift, Loki would simply disappear into thin air, if they bothered him with sappy words or even poems dripping with adoration, he would render them speechless with his seiðr. There were a few idiotic suitors reeking of lust, who did not seem to get the hints that Loki wanted to be left alone, at peace. So he stopped them when they continued to follow him, restraining their legs with a flick of his hand and lashed at them with his wicked tongue, until they cowered like beaten animals. 

The Icen prince was not interested in any of his admirers, and after a while the people stayed away from him once more. They went back to whisper behind his back, words like _frigid_ and _cold_ , even calling him _freak_ and _monster_ , just to spite him.

For few are as bitter as a lover spurned. 

But, even though, he managed to build up a few, rare friendships to people he met in some of his classes, outsiders just like him. But most peace-hostages did not stay for a very long time, and the students he felt close to left within 50 years or so, and it was a lot of work for Loki to open up to someone new once more. In the end he restricted his exchange with others down to a few words.

Either way, Loki believed that his time in Asgard was coming to an end soon.  
For he was almost fully sexually matured, and as an full-grown Ergi, Laufey-king might finally find some use in his youngest son. He was a powerful tool to bind a high-ranking alpha closer to the throne, after all. 

But Loki also realized that the day he returned to Jötunheimr, he would loose access to his seiðr forever. For he knew his father would not have a Mage practicing his craft it in his castle, or in his realm, for that matter. 

So the prince embraced his magical abilities like a man dying of thirst did water. 

Because he did not know how long he would still be allowed to use it. 

 

x

Thor never frequented the hostage quarters unless he absolutely had to, and today he was here to see one of the Vanir, a young girl that had just recently joined the ranks of the peace-hostages. Her father had been killed in a riding accident, and as the lord had been a close ally to Asgard, Odin had demanded that his son personally talk to the girl and inform her of her family's misfortune.

Thor, who had just returned from a mighty battle in Midgard, had grumbled but accepted. 

Odin had made it very clear to him that he had to practice his diplomacy, as he was severely lacking in this particular skill. Thor realized that his guilt-free existence of simply fighting battles and hunting enormous animals was over. The Allfather expected him to work towards becoming a just king who weighed his options carefully, listened to his advisers and did not back away from difficult decisions or tasks.  
Of course Odin knew that his son was a natural leader and valuable strategist in battle. However Thor had always shirked peace-time missions such as diplomacy, negotiations or forming judgment focused solely on the good of the realm and its future.  
So this time, when the Odinson returned, his father had decided to set up as many diplomatic missions as he could for the king-in-waiting, to reform his ill-mannered, hot-tempered son into a king Asgard could be proud of. 

And apparently, telling a little girl that her father had just died was the way to do it.  
Thor huffed.  
So now he was stuck running boring errands.  
Not fit for a warrior. 

But apparently necessary for becoming a king. 

So he went begrudgingly, and when he finally found the young girl and told her the news, he stood at her side awkwardly as she sobbed and sputtered. When he withdrew he left the child, who would not stop crying, in a nurse's hands, and Thor realized that he felt the obvious grief of the hostage like a heavy burden, a dark patch of sorrow like a cloud on his mind.  
So, instead of walking back to the throne room directly, he decided that he needed some time for himself, just to breathe. He wanted to go to one of his favorite gardens to sit and contemplate, to find the peace and quiet he had been lacking for weeks, as he had been occupied by battles and surrounded by people for quite a long while. 

Having made the decision, Thor swayed from his usual route and headed outside. 

He followed a familiar path leading away from the main buildings of the hostage-wing, booted feet crunching on the pebbled footpath. He made his way into the labyrinth of gardens that were connected via the small, snaking path, the different patches of land separated by brick walls or wooden barriers, overgrown with all kind of entwined, flowering plants. The Odinson knew that the further he moved away from the castle itself, the fewer people he would meet. And he wanted to be alone. 

Thor pushed open a gate and stepped onto a terrace where flowers and trees were arranged in large, concentric circles. He knew that the plants in the very middle of the flower beds were organized for the flowers to bloom subsequently, each bud opening and closing within a single hour, indicating the time of day. It was early afternoon, around 2 pm, according to the purple flowers that filled the air with a sweet aroma.  
The shrubberies and small trees surrounding the inner circle indicated the month of the year, and the immense, ancient mammoth trees encircling them, apparently marked the passing of years and even centuries.  
Thor looked at the arrangement appreciatively, once more marveling in the ingenuity of the person who had come up with the idea of a flower clock and plant calendar. 

He stopped for a moment, took a deep, soothing breath and then continued on, walking more slowly than before. 

Thor followed the deserted pathway leading him through through a series of gardens that contained modest-sized ponds. The waters were filled with different kinds of fish and tadpoles, small frogs croaking on lily pads as dragonflies in brilliant colors whirred around flowers in the hot afternoon sun. Every time he stepped into the next, almost identical garden, the lily ponds and surroundings changed in color. Each yard he passed represented a different shade of the rainbow, first red, orange, yellow, then green, blue, indigo and finally violet. While he believed finding flowers of different shades should be easy enough to accomplish, he wondered briefly where the gardeners had found the animals in those particular colors to match the garden they were in, especially the fish and frogs, and how in the worlds they kept the dragonflies from mixing.

However, he did not ponder on the thought for too long, and moved on. 

After an overgrown pathway, he passed through a herb garden, and he closed his eyes to inhale the spicy scent of the different rare plants. He knew that some of them could heal and some could kill, and most were able to do both. His mother had spent time in his childhood to point out the different medicinal herbs to him, but while he knew that cultivation and plant-induced magic was one of her favorite past-times, he had never seen the appeal personally. So the plants here all looked alike, and he passed quickly, without lingering.

Behind the herb garden was a small cave, and Thor followed the pathway through it, ducking his head, breathing in the damp, cool air as he stepped over a small rivulet of clear fresh water. He had finally reached his favorite garden at the end of the tunnel, tugged away at the very border of the kingdom, opening up towards the never-ending galaxy. The small piece of hidden land was set against a rugged stone wall on the one side, a small waterfall cascading down along the rocks. It fed a modest stream that snaked its way along bright green grass, just to fall off the side of the border that was Asgard, into the vastness of space. 

Thor loved this place, for one could sit in the shade on a hot day, the cool water splattering in a most soothing manner and look out into the endlessness of the universe, and just _be_.

It was one of the most peaceful places he knew. 

The Odinson stepped onto the soft grass, took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked around. 

Then he froze on the spot. 

He was not alone. 

Loki, the Jotun-prince was sitting on the edge of the small river leading to where the land tapered off into nothingness, one foot dangling in the cold water, an old-looking book, thick and heavy with age, on his lap. One of his hands was hovering over the open pages, following the golden lettering as his mouth moved, silently forming words, a small, green flame flickering in and out of life in the palm of his hand. 

Thor stopped in his tracks, confused and angered that his very own place of peace was occupied.

By a damn Frost Giant, above all. 

He stared at the peace-hostage in front of him, realizing that Loki had changed since the last time he had seen him. The Jotun's soft, childish features had hardened and his limbs had stretched and lengthened. Thor let his gaze roam over the blue body, taking in the shiny, raven-black hair braided carelessly and flung onto his back, the white tattoos and raised brands spiraling sensually over his skin, the mother-of-pearl shine of his large, curled horns. He was taken aback that Loki was actually rather _handsome_ , if he could see past the color of his skin and eyes, and the horns growing from his head.

Thor started at his own thoughts, snapping back to reality. 

No.  
Not handsome.  
He was a Beast.  
_Insult._

He must have made a sound, for Loki raised his eyes, spine stiffening when he realized he was not alone anymore. His fingers, that had just held the small, sputtering flame, snapped together, extinguishing it without a second thought. The Icen prince's burning red eyes narrowed when they fell upon the Odinson, and he straightened his spine as he turned slightly, his face twisted briefly into a look of annoyance before it was deliberately wiped clear. 

Still, Thor could read the wariness in his eyes. 

He cleared his throat, glowering down to the hostage sitting on the grass.

“I am to be alone. Leave.”

Loki's lips curved downwards for the briefest of moments. Then he swung around, pulling his feet out of the water and curling them underneath himself, and rose in a single, fluid motion, reminding Thor of exotic dancers at the feasts.  
“I am sorry, my Lord, I was not aware that all the other gardens were occupied.”

The thin lips curled into a sarcastic smirk, and Thor felt blood rise into his head, flushing him hotly.  
“I come to this place for peace, and I will have it now. I command you, be gone. ”

Loki walked towards him gracefully, the large, old book carefully cradled in his arms. He cocked his head, red eyes glittering.

“My apologies. There was no sign that stated that this is _Thor's garden_ , but maybe I missed it.” Loki took an apparent look around and turned back.“No. There is nothing.” His red eyes narrowed, and Thor felt like he could see a small fire burn within them. He noted how Loki radiated coolness in the warmth of the hot day, as he stood opposite of him.  
The Icen prince's voice was low, husky.  
Dismissive.  
“Either way, I am off, your _Majesty_. A good day to you.”

The words dripped with sarcasm and then Loki disappeared in front of Thor's eyes, fading out of existence as if he had never been there at all. 

The Golden God was somewhat startled by the impressive display of magic, not having realized that the Laufeyson had such powerful seiðr, or that he had been taking lessons to learn how to use it.  
It angered him down to his core.  
He gritted his teeth and sat down in his favorite spot with an exasperated grunt, back leaning against the cool stone, legs stretched out in the grass, facing the galaxy. The view here was breathtakingly vast, opening up and expanding all the way into eternity.

Thor tried to focus on it, easing his breathing, considering taking off his heavy boots, deciding against it. He realized that meeting the Laufeyson in his own favorite spot and witnessing his power gnawed at him. It annoyed him immensely that he could not stop thinking about the long-legged, slender Frost Giant.  
The Odinson tried to relax for several minutes longer, then he understood that he was not going to find the tranquility he had been hoping for, and pushed himself back up, straightening his waistcoat. 

What a waste of time.

Thor turned without a second glance, and went back the way he had come from. 

For the rest of the day, the Odinson could not rid himself of the image of the tall, slim and so very exotic being that the prince of the Jötnar had developed into. 

That night, Loki haunted his dreams.

 

X

 

The very next morning Thor requested for an audience with his father, and was called to see him later the same day. 

He was fatigued, and filled with unholy anger. 

Thor stalked into the throne room, dark circles under his eyes, and his voice was no less than a bark when his father nodded at him, giving the permission to speak.  
“Father! The runt of Jotunheim is still walking our halls, eating our food, learning our ways, enjoying our hospitality! Now I find out that we are teaching him the ways of Olden Magic. His existence in this Court is an insult and has been for a long time, and I am sick of it.”  
Thor was seething. He took a deep breath, his cheeks flushed red with righteous anger. “Place the runt into prison and let me take an army to show Laufey that he can not disrespect Asgard without retribution. I just need a couple of Berserkers to put these _beasts_ back into their place.”

Odin sat silently on his throne during Thor's outburst, watching as his son paced the floor, fingers curling into fists. He waited for a while before he spoke, voice low and calm, sparkling eye never leaving Thor. “Son. I do not understand the ill will that you direct against Loki-prince, but I have heard that you have been intolerably rude to our guest whenever your paths crossed. “ The elder sighed under his breath. “This behavior will end here and now. The Jötnar-prince was sent here as an insult, yes, but Jötunheimr is a broken realm with neither wealth nor riches, and attacking it now would bring no gain for us. Sending the runt as a peace-hostage was a stubborn provocation of a weakened kingdom that has lost everything it once had, and has nothing else to give. There would be no honor in a victory over Jötunheimr at this point in time. It would just waste valuable resources that we need in Svartálfheimr and Múspellsheimr. Also, we have taken in the Laufeyson as a guest, and it will not do to break the bonds of ancient hospitality.”

Thor stared at his father, breath coming fast.  
How could the Allfather not recognize the slight that had been directed against them?  
He had _seen_ Loki use magic. That beast had dared to defy him in the gardens. Thor wanted Loki gone. He sneered. “The Frost Giant was sent as an insult, and you just took him in. All of the realms are laughing.”

Odin shifted, slowly shaking his head. He did not react to his son's anger, instead stayed seated, watching him calmly. “Let them laugh, if you believe that is what they are doing. Laufey sent an unwanted child who had the misfortune to be born with the wrong abilities at the wrong time. We took him in, the most hated of the princes of Jötunheimr, and he was treated the way we would have a first-born son of any king. Knowing Laufey, that is a worse affront than fighting him outright in battle. As I said, I believe there is no need to retaliate, at least not right now. Especially not against the prince, for he carries no fault in the matter.”

“But father...”

Odin finally stood, towering over his son on the throne podium, hands clenched around Gungnir. “No. No more, Thor. There will be no war, no battle, not now. Not yet. Instead, I command you to get to know the Loki-prince, to talk to him. Speak to him about his people, find out about the Frost Giants ways, their habits, how they live and survive the hardships of the Icen Realm. You have poured out enough contempt against the young prince. Now you shall befriend him.”

The Allfather saw the disgust in his heir's features. Still, he continued: ”Think of it as understanding your enemy better. We will not go to war with Laufey, not now, but it will come, that is as certain as the sun setting tonight. And when it does it will be best for you to understand the Jötnar as a race, and comprehend their ways of life.”

Thor shook his head, outraged. His voice was loud, booming when he answered. “He is Ergi, he is _weak_. The runt will know nothing about the strategies of a king's warfare or the life of a Warrior. He knows nothing. He _is_ nothing.”

Odin hummed, tapping Gungnir onto the floor. “You are right. Loki is Ergi, a Mage, and a promising one at that, if one is to believe his tutors. And Laufey hates and suppresses everything that he represents. I believe that could be of use for us. He may never sit on the throne of Jötunheimr, but I was told that he is smart and has a clever tongue. He may one day be of influence if he is paired with the right Alpha.”

Thor grit his teeth. Loki's long, slender blue body flashed in his mind. No. That would not do. He continued to pace the floor, determined to convince his father.  
He fixated the healthy eye, and his voice was firm, persistent. “Loki is nothing. I shall not be sullied by his presence.”

Odin stared at him. “My son, you have much to learn about politics. Sometimes we do not love or even respect our alleys, but diplomacy has nothing to do with affection and everything with integrity and foresight. So this will be good training for you.” The Allfather stood tall, single eye glowering in his face. “Loki is Ergi, but his mind is sharp and his pride is strong. Learn what you can from him. Your friendship may not be of use in the future, but it may also prove to be invaluable. It will, of course, not be easy, if the reports of how you treated him in the past are true.” 

Thor's lip thinned. “But father, he....”

The sharp reprimand was quick and final. “That is enough for today, Thor. You will do as you are told.”

The Thunderer blinked and then lowered his head.  
That was an order, there was no doubt about that. 

He was dismissed. 

Rain clouds were rolling dark in the sky when he left the throne room, a heavy thunderstorm threatening.

Odin sighed, slowly sitting back down upon his throne. 

He was glad that he was still strong and that neither the Great Sleep nor death currently threatened him, for Thor lacked in wisdom and insight in diplomacy, while he possessed it in abundance in the battlefield.  
But his son was not to become a war general.  
No.  
One day his short-tempered, immature son would be king. 

And Odin vowed that he would do his best to make sure that the throne of Asgard would get the ruler that was worthy his succession.


	11. How to befriend a Frost Giant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! It is my (and Benedict Cumberbatch's) birthday tomorrow, and I am glad to offer you this chapter, where the relationship between our two boys finally begins.  
> More or less this is Thor's attempt trying to befriend Loki and failing spectacularly. And Loki finally found his sharp tongue.
> 
> Thanks to uluka, for without her you would have had a lot more commas in and out of places where they do not belong. And mistakes. And stuff.  
> And love to everyone who leaves kudos and comments, because yes, that is what fanfic authors feed on. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

It was a wonderful, warm autumn day.

Loki had been held back after class by the Tutor of War, the stern Valkyrja Pyrgomache, whose chest was exposed, her left breast amputated to not obstruct her when drawing a bow string. She took him aside as the rest of the students cleared the dusty training arena, telling the Icen prince that his sword-handling skills had not improved in decades. She concluded that he would need to spend more time sparring to catch up with the rest of the class. 

Loki ducked his head, scowling at his tutor.

He knew that his sword-fighting was below average, but that was simply because he had no interest in the sport and therefore invested neither time, energy nor any thought in the matter. 

The sword was a weapon of a true Warrior, a caste he would never be welcome in.  
Not as an Ergi. Not as a Mage.  
It would not matter how well he handled a sword once he returned to his home.  
There was nothing that would change the fate that was coming for him. 

Loki looked up at the Valkyrja and wondered if she had ever stood face to face to a full-grown Alpha Warrior of the Jötnar, towering more than four meters above her. He wondered if she had ever watched as a Frost Giant charged at her with his head lowered, just his horns and pure muscles enough of a weapon to take down ten Berserkers or more.  
Loki doubted that she knew that he would not be allowed to handle a sword, or even his magic, when he returned to the Icen plains of Jötunheimr. For when the time would come, he would be expected to fight against his suitors using only his hands and horns, weapons he knew would never stand against an Alpha, and once defeated he would be raped in the sand of the arena he fought in.  
No sword-training in the nine realms would save him from that fate. 

So why even bother?

Loki stood his ground and shook his head, red eyes glaring.  
“I will not need the sword when I fight in the future. I have my seiðr.”

The Valkyrja, tall, blond hair cropped short, just stared back at him, features lacking any sort of emotion. Her voice was low and raspy. The Frost Giant wondered whether that came from the long scar that ran across her throat. 

“Magic can be taken away by sorcerers. It can be contained with Dwarfen magic. You may be stuck in a place where your seiðr is suppressed. You will need to learn other ways to fight.”

Loki tried not to roll his eyes. “I am good at throwing daggers. You said so yourself, I am one of the best you have ever taught.”

The Valkyrja just stared down at him. Loki felt like he was running against a brick wall with his arguments. She shattered each one with short, precise sentences. “Daggers are like arrows, they are useful and deadly, until you run out. No. You need to learn to defend yourself with the sword.”

Loki tried one last time. “In Jötunheimr, I can create knives out of thin air, every Jötun can do it. I don't need to learn how to wield a sword.”

The Valkyrja did not blink. “This is not up for discussion.”

Loki was getting frustrated. “Sword-fight is not the way of my people. ”It was a lie, and they both knew it. 

Pyrgomache was unimpressed. “You are in Asgard. This is a mandatory class. You practice an additional four hours a week until I decide that you caught up to the rest of your piers.”

“But....”

“Five hours.”

“You can't.....”

“Six hours. And I can. Do you really want to test me in this?”

Loki glared at the Tutor in front of him, his hands fisting at his sides. This was a lot of time taken from him that he could have spent studying old magical texts in the library, and in that moment he hated her. 

“Fine”, he spat out. “But I can't right now. I have another class.”

The Valkyrja's face never changed, she nodded.

“I expect you three times a week after your classes, Loki. Two hours each.”

Loki turned with a snarl and left the field, seething. 

What a waste of his time. 

 

x

 

It was early evening, the air cooling as the sun started to set. Loki was attacking the wooden dummy that was propped up in the middle of the small, sandy arena, again and again, the training sword heavy and clumsy in his hands.

He was alone, but he was fairly certain that Pyrgomache would know if he tried to deceive her by leaving a magical clone in his stead. His tutor had held him back after their last class, and she warned him that if he dared to use his seiðr to fool her, he would have to spend his weekends training as well.  
Unfortunately, Loki believed her.  
That damn Valkyrja would probably chain him to a fence if she thought it would keep him here, practicing his sword skills. Loki growled in anger, raising his weapon and bringing it down against one of the many boards sticking from the dummy. He groaned as he hit the wood, a sharp pain shooting into his elbow and up his arm. 

A damn waste of his time. 

The Frost Giant was seething, slowly rubbing his aching limb, when a loud, booming voice had him twirling around. “If you fight like that the day I take down Jotunheim, there is not much for me to fear, is there?”

Loki had taken a defensive stand and raised his training sword, when he saw the Odinson leaning against the wooden barricade to the arena, a small smirk playing on his lips.  
The Icen prince lowered his weapon, groaning inwardly.  
He really did not need to be insulted or humiliated now, on top of everything else. 

Loki closed his eyes briefly, mentally preparing himself for a confrontation before opening them again. “My Lord.” He sneered, a dangerous fire dancing behind his eyes. “No. Of course, you are right. On a battlefield, with swords in our hands, you would not have to fear me. But then again, I am not a _brute_ who was raised to fight battles the moment I could walk.”

Loki snapped his mouth shut.  
Well. That had felt amazingly good. 

He went back into a defensive stance when he saw Thor's face darken, ready to take the verbal or even physical abuse he expected in return for the slight.  
Maybe, if he was lucky, the Odinson would even force him to leave.  
Best excuse ever.  
Sorry, but the son of the Allfather made me stop practicing.

Instead, much to Loki's surprise, a large grin spread on the Thunderer's face, and his voice was good-humored. “Oh, aye, I guess you are right.”  
Loki was dumbfounded, and he watched wearily as Thor strolled towards him, picking up a random, wooden sparring sword that was leaning against a fence, studying it intently.

“I forgot how heavy these things are.” The Thunderer belied his comment by twirling the weapon easily through the air.

Loki snorted. 

“Come on then, Loki-prince of Jotunheim, let's spar.” Thor grinned, bright white teeth on sun-burned features. 

Loki exhaled sharply through his nose. He was not up for a verbal sparring, much less a real, physical one. His voice was dripping with sarcasm when he answered.  
“Thank you, your _Majesty_ , but I think I will decline. Surely you are aware that I am no match for your _talent_ in killing things, and I have no interest landing in the healing chambers this day, or the dungeons, for that matter.” 

He stood still as Thor circled him slowly, the way a predator would, eyeing him up and down. 

“Don't be foolish. It looks like you need someone to give you feedback on your technique. I am one of the best sword-fighters of the realm. And we fight with wooden swords only, after all. So I can almost guarantee you that I won't injure you.” The grin, amazingly, widened. “Unless you are incapable, of course.”

Loki gritted his teeth at the insult, turning slowly as Thor continued to circle him. His voice was flat.  
“How can I put this for someone of your intelligence to understand? Not. Interested.”

Thor's face fell for a moment, but his answer was still calm, amiable.  
“Surely you do not wish to intend insult by your resistance to humor me, Jotun? I saw you practice, it is a nice, warm evening and I have no more errands to run. All I wish for is some well-meant sport.”

Loki's eyes scanned Thor's face. The Odinson looked relaxed, his smile was seemingly open and genuine, and Loki failed to note a willful glitter or dangerous gleam in the other's eyes.  
Still....  
Thor had never been civil to him before. 

So he sneered, hoping the other would finally leave him be. “Sure. Nice evening to beat the runt of the Frost Giants to a pulp with a wooden sword. And then go and laugh with your brute friends about it. Is that what you get out of this?” 

Thor laughed quietly, looking at the sword in his hands.  
“By the Norns, getting you to spar is harder than bringing down a bilgesnipe. I am not here to mock you, and if need be I can swear by Odin's beard that you will not come to harm by my hand.” Thor twirled his sword into the air and caught it, easily. “How about the following: I teach you to fight and in return you answer some questions I have about Jotunheim. That sounds fair, does it not?”

The Frost Giant froze for a moment, spine stiffening.  
That... that was...  
Well.  
Now Thor seeking him out and being friendly made sense, after all. 

Loki relaxed, threw back his head, and laughed. Loud. 

Thor had stopped his circling motions and now stood still as well, wooden sword at his side. His brow was furrowed. “What? What is it?”

Loki had snapped off his laughter, and his hiss was low, dangerous, his red eyes glittering.“Do you think me a FOOL, Thor Odinson?” He stepped up to the Asgardian, showing his teeth in a snarl. “What, you want to attack my home and are going to ask me how to do it? I am not an _idiot_.”

Thor stilled, staring at the slight Frost Giant, head cocked to the side. The grin had left his face.  
“No. You are not an idiot. But let me make something very clear to you, Loki Laufeyson. You are a hostage of Asgard, and I am the crown-prince. I wish to spar with you because I just happened to walk by, and it strikes my fancy. If you wish, I will not ask questions that you feel you cannot answer in order to protect your realm, but I long for a conversation and sport. You are a guest and have no right to turn me down. Is that understood, _Jotun_?”  
Thor stood tall against the darkening sky, towering over Loki, if not a lot. The Icen prince had grown to match his height over the years. 

Loki, bitterly, realized that Thor was right. He was no more than a prisoner at the mercy of Asgard, and therefore could not turn down the heir to the throne, without offending.  
“Fine.” He hissed. He very much hoped that he would, indeed, not have to finish his day with broken bones in the healing chamber.  
Because Thor was.... well. He was Thor.  
A mindless brute by anyone's standard. 

Loki swallowed the snarl on his lips. 

“Stand over there.” The Odinson seemed relaxed again, pointing him towards the middle of the small arena, a good way away from the practice dummy. Loki turned to stomp in the general direction, sword clenched in his hand. He swore to himself that at least he was not going to go down without a fight.

He moved to face Thor, who in turn was studying the Frost Giant intently, taking in his stance, his position, head cocked to the side.  
“You are holding your sword all wrong. Your wrist is way too lax.” 

Loki swallowed down a disdainful remark, remembering Pyrgomache had pointed out the same thing to him many times as well. However, when Thor stepped up to him and his warm hand suddenly curled around his cold, blue wrist, Loki recoiled.  
The Odinson did not seem to notice, and he straightened the Icen prince's arm with too-warm fingers. His voice was calm. “You have to keep your arm and your wrist in a straight line. Think of the sword as an extension of your arm, or you will injure yourself instead of others.”

Loki was fatigued, annoyed and did not like being touched without his permission. He yanked his arm out of the loose grip, stepping away from the Odinson, just out of arm's reach.  
“Never touch me again!” he snarled, backing off. 

Thor smirked at him, switching his wooden blade from one hand into the other, and back again.  
“As you wish. Are you ready to spar then?”

Loki nodded, sharply. He already wished this was over. Then he could go back to his room and take a long, cold bath and forget this ever happened.

“Attack me then, Jotun.” Thor was still grinning a wide, toothy smile, playfully twirling his sword.  
The Frost Giant rolled his eyes at the obvious provocation in the demeaning pronunciation of the name of his race, and he attacked with a growl. There was little he wanted to do more than hit Thor's thick skull to shut him up. The Odinson simply ducked to the side, taking advantage of the wide-open defenses of Loki's first move, and quick as a viper leaned forward and tapped against the Frost Giant's rips with his sword.  
Softly.  
“You're dead.” Thor could not suppress his pleased grin. 

Loki huffed, lowered his stance, and attacked again.  
He found himself in the sand within seconds, tripped over a heavy foot, the wooden blade pressing down hard between his shoulder blades.  
“Dead.”  
Thor extended a hand, but Loki ignored the offered palm and pushed himself off the ground, patting down his dirtied trousers. 

He could hear the smile in the Asgardian's voice. “Your movements need to be smaller, you are opening up too much. I can read in your features where you are going to attack next. And you distribute too much weight into your upper body, which made it easy for me to upset your balance.”

Loki nodded abruptly, fingers tightening around the sword hilt wrapped in soft leather. He made sure to keep his next movements much smaller, and more conservative, and when he saw Thor opening up his own defenses, he tried to strike, but was opposed with easy blows.  
He realized quickly that the Odinson was going easy on him. His attacks were almost leisurely, offering gaps that Loki could attack, even if he never struck flesh. Thor's wooden sword was always there to meet his.  
It was maddening.  
Loki tried to strike again and again, harder each time, but the Thunderer's movements were skilled and deliberate. Very soon Loki's breath came in little huffs.  
He wanted to scream in frustration.  
Instead he took another swing, gritting his teeth.”You had questions. Ask.”  
Sweat was streaming from his forehead, stinging his eyes.  
This realm was too darn hot. 

Thor grinned at him. He was not even breathing heavily. “Impatient, huh? Sure.” The Odinson easily thwarted two whacks of Loki's sword. “How come you already wear the markings of an Ergi if you have not had to fight yet?”

Loki snarled as he warded off a hit that shook him to the bone, and stepped back.  
That insolent brute had the audacity to ask the most insensitive question he could think of.  
Not a surprise, really. But still - may the Norns shrivel his privates.  
He felt his seiðr tickle in his fingertips, asking to be released, to strike down that calloused idiot with just the snap of his fingers. Instead he ducked under another one of Thor's attacks and aimed low at his feet, almost, _almost_ hitting the thick shin. 

“Because my horns curled when they started growing. It indicated I would be ... small. A runt. As an adult.” His voice was flat, belying the strain it took to ward of Thor's light blows. 

The Thunderer stared at him intently, and took another jab in Loki's direction, allowing the Jötun to fend him off, easily. “Oh aye. And that makes you part of the Mage's caste. But why not defend yourself with your seiðr against a Warrior, if you cannot fight him with your horns or strength? I have heard that you are a powerful sorcerer in your own right.”

Loki growled and parried another hit, swinging his sword from his hip. His fingers were getting slippery with sweat.  
“You can't be that...” Loki swallowed down the 'stupid' he was going to add, leaning back to avoid a wide swing. No need to insult the Odinson, when he could literally beat him with his wooden sword. “I mean, you must have taken cultural history, or are the princes of Asgard exempt from that?”

Thor grinned his wide, toothy grin at him. “Just imagine I did not pay attention when we were taught the history of Jötunheimr.”

Loki growled, glowering at Thor. He could feel anger curl hotly in his spine, burning him from the inside out. “Then let me explain it to you in words you can _understand_.” He snapped. “During the thousand-year war, a Jötun Mage made a wrong decision. Because of that, Odin was able to take the Casket of Eternal Winters, the heart-piece of our realm. It broke Jötunheimr's energy and plunged the realm into never ending darkness. We lost. You won. It was all a Mage's fault. Do you follow?”

With his last words Loki brought down his sword hard, but Thor evaded him gracefully and gave Loki a shove. The Frost Giant fell into the sand once more. He snarled and got back onto his feet straight away.

Thor looked at him thoughtfully. “So Laufey had the Mage's caste destroyed. Because of the mistake of just one sorcerer.”

Loki panted, the strain of the fight and the topic was getting to him.“Yes. Seiðr in all its forms is now forbidden, by the punishment of death. Not that there are many Mages left, anyway.” He blinked, sweat running into his eyes, making it hard to see. He wiped at his forehead, and attacked again. “Mating fights can only be won by pure strength and the sharpness of one's horns. I am a runt. My horns curl. Which means, and I quote _you_ here: one of those enormous Alpha's will fuck me because I won't be able to fight them off.”

The Odinson had the decency to look slightly ashamed. 

Loki was exhausted. His anger was curling deep inside of him, and he was tired, hot, and running out of energy. His mind wandered for just a second and he missed the next attack coming down at him. It hit him full force against his side, onto his ribs. Loki could not hold back a cry as he doubled over, dropping his sword on the sand. The pain radiated all the way to his chest and down his spine, paralyzing his left arm. He gritted his teeth, feeling faint, darkness clouding the edges of his vision.

Thor stopped immediately. “How could you not see that blow coming? It was so obvious.” His voice was accusing, as if Loki had _wanted_ to be hit. When the Frost Giant did not answer, breathing hard, fingers clutching his side, the Odinson stepped closer. “Are you all right?” Now he sounded concerned. 

Loki swallowed, then nodded, pain and exhaustion making him dizzy. “I'm fine.” He cleared his throat and unclenched his fingers, looking down at what was the beginning of a spectacular bruise. “I'm done for today.”

Thor nodded and bent down to pick up the sword that Loki had dropped, taking the two weapons back to lean them against the fence surrounding the arena. When the Odinson turned back, he saw Loki already half way towards the main building, horned head slightly bent, fingers once more curled protectively around his side. 

He watched him leave in silence. 

The training had ended in the healing chambers after all.


	12. A conversation and a fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my beta uluka.
> 
> And please remember, kudos and comments are love!
> 
>  
> 
> x

On Loki's rib cage, as predicted, bloomed a spectacular bruise. It was deep black with faint, purple edges, his white tattoos and brandings curling unhindered over it. He could hardly lift his arm, and for four days after he was in pain every time he moved.

Loki had gone to the healing chambers, just to make sure that Thor had not broken anything, but it turned out that his ribs were simply bruised and the flesh on top swollen and tender to the touch.  
The healer wordlessly applied a cream and sent Loki back to his rooms with extra supply, telling him to take it easy for a couple of days at least. 

The next day, Pyrgomanche looked at the injury without batting an eye, and exempted Loki of his training classes for a whole week.

Loki felt smug above all.  
At least something good had come of that utter disaster of a training session.

 

9 days passed before Loki approached the training area and saw Thor lean against the wooden railing once more. He stopped and stared, his hope that the Odinson had played a strange game with him that day, and would leave him in peace in the future, shattered.

The Thunderer saw him and grinned, holding two training swords in his calloused, tanned hands. 

“Loki. There you are. I was waiting for you.”

Loki took a deep breath, and then another, hoping it would calm his inner turmoil, but no such luck. He gritted his teeth and approached the Odinson warily, red eyes boring into calm blue ones. He stopped at arm's length in front of the Asgardian, ignoring the wooden sword that was offered to him.  
His voice was cold as ice. “What do you want?” 

Thor grinned and shrugged, throwing one sword in the air and catching it easily.  
“Same as last time. A conversation and a fight.”

The Jötun had hoped that he had gone past the trial of having to talk and fight Thor, but the swords and the smug grin on the oaf's face shattered those hopes. Loki thinned his lips. “ Last time you swore on Odin's beard that you would not harm me. So, where is it? Are you still going to fetch it for me? I can wait.”

Thor grinned, scratching his head with one hand. “Yeah. That did not work out as planned. But you did not defend yourself, so it was not really my fault.”

Loki retorted coldly, his arms crossed in front of his chest.  
“You may not have heard about it, but usually _sorry_ is the word that comes into play here. But hey. I guess a crown-prince does not need to know such trivialities that lowly peasants such as I have to refer to.”

Thor looked amused. “Ok, fine. I'm sorry, I guess. It would help if you watched what you were doing this time, though.” He held out one of the swords. 

“I don't think so. You can play with someone else.” Loki walked past the Odinson, ignoring the outstretched weapon. “I am not going to be in pain for another week, just so you can satisfy your need for abusing me with insensitive questions and a wooden sword.” 

The Frost Giant picked up a random blade from the floor, weighing it in his hand. This one would do as well as any other. He stepped up to the training dummy and focused on it, trying to ignore the Thunderer stepping up behind him.  
Thor sounded... amused. “You healed, you are well. I heard nothing was broken, and you got a week off training.” Loki took a swing at the dummy. Thor sighed exasperatedly. “Come on. If you want I can let you get one hit in, and then we are even. Isn't that something you would want? To bruise me?”

Loki continued to ignore him. He stared at the training apparatus and thwacked at another board, keeping his wrists deliberately straight.  
Thor blew out a loud breath. “You are stubborn, fine. Here's the deal. I talked to your tutor, the Valkyrja, and she agreed that if I sparred with you once a week for two hours, you could skip the following two afternoons. Still, you would have to train until you've caught up to the rest of the class. Also, I am not allowed to injure you anymore. She was kind of angry about that.”

Loki froze, sword in his hand, and he twirled around, staring at the Odinson in disbelief. His voice was no less than a snarl. “Why, by the wrinkly tits of the Norns, are you doing this? I am an insult, remember? _The_ insult. Why can't you just leave me in peace? Or did someone smack you too hard on your head during your last battle, and turned you into a drooling idiot? More so than you already were?”

Thor stared down at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe I just like you.”

“Fuck off.” Loki was seething. “I don't know what game you are playing, or what you are getting out of this, but I want no part in it. I would rather train six hours by myself than two with you. Now get lost!”

But, of course, the Odinson did not leave.  
That would have been too easy, after all. 

Thor looked at Loki for a long moment before he finally answered. He looked pained.  
“Fine. You are correct, I still believe that you were sent here as an insult. And believe me when I say that there are many things I would rather do, instead of listening to your sharp tongue and watching your stumbling attempts of a fight.” The Thunderer took a deep breath. “But, to be honest, my father bid me be _nice_ to you, to make up any wrong I may have caused you. This is me honoring my father's wishes. I know how to fight, you need to learn, and here we are. The conversation is simply so I don't get bored, and it will make time fly faster.”

Loki was taken aback by the honesty, and did not respond for a moment. His thoughts were twirling in his mind, tumbling over each other. The Allfather bid his son to befriend him? Him, the worthless prince of the Frost Giants? The new revelation did not help to calm Loki, for he knew that Odin was shrewd, that he was surely following an objective if he ordered his heir to take time out of his day to talk to the Jötun insult. 

If anything, it made Loki even more wary.  
It also made him realize that he could not turn down Thor, if the Allfather was behind all of this. 

Damn the Norns. 

Loki took a deep breath without looking into Thor's eyes. “I am not answering any more questions. It is insulting. I do not owe you fealty.”

Thor's answer was quick and confident. “But you do. You and your father swore an oath before you came here.”  
Loki looked up at him, mouth curling into a sweet smile. “You mean, just like the ancient oath of hospitality? The one _you_ have been following so very closely?”

The Odinson twirled the heavy sword easily with one hand, shrugging at the same time. “If it makes you feel better, I will ask less insulting questions today.”

Loki bristled. “I am not even sure if you are able to be less insulting. And if at all, it is _question_ , not _questions_. One question, no more.”

Thor's laugh was loud, and Loki winced at the boom. “You are a hard negotiator, Laufeyson. Fine then, one question, not humiliating. Will you spar with me, finally? Or am I to expect you to stab me to death with your sharp tongue?”

Loki looked at him, coolly. “Do I have a choice?”

Thor grinned. “Not really.”

Loki closed his eyes, shook his head slowly. He opened them again, snatched the offered training sword from Thor's hand and walked into the middle of the arena.  
At least he would get two of his afternoons back every week. The Jötun tried to ignore the fact that this also meant that he had to do _this_ once a week, every week, until Pyrgomanche finally stopped these lessons.  
And if the Allfather was behind this... he might not be allowed to stop until Odin got what he wanted. A wave of despair washed over Loki, and instead of letting it swallow him whole, he redirected it into anger. It would do better in a fight. He could later wonder about what to do next. 

The Frost Giant took his stance, watching Thor as he loosely moved his sword from one hand to the other and back again. Loki feigned an attack, and was awarded by a hard smack against his weapon.  
He growled.  
They fought for a couple of minutes, Thor taking it notably easy on the Frost Giant. Loki took the slow pace as a chance to warm his muscles, and get used to the heft of his sword. He cowered and stabbed, aiming for his opponents stomach, but Thor warded him off easily. 

“So tell me, Loki....” Thor let a few light hits rain down on him that he could, thankfully, thwart.  
“What do you eat in Jotunheim?”

Loki snarled. “It's pronounced Jötunheimr, you oaf. I swear by the Norns.....” 

Thor backed off, smiling, a twinkle in his eyes. “One day you are going to lash someone to death with that tongue of yours. But whatever you say. So, what food do you eat in _Jötunheimr_?”

Another swing, another counter attack. 

Loki huffed, never taking his eyes of Thor's weapon. “Seriously? That is your question today?”

Thor smirked, voice heavy with sarcasm. “You were the one making such a fuss last time. Is food too humiliating as well? Or will it give away any well-kept secrets you are not to talk about?” 

The Frost Giant rolled his red eyes. “Ok then. We eat frozen foods.”

Thor barked out a short laugh at that. Loki did not join in, his eyes never leaving the sword of the Thunderer. He countered one light hit after another, and then Thor stepped to his right, forcing Loki to follow his movements.

“Sure, Frozen Foods, makes sense. What kind? Where do they come from?”

Loki grimaced. “We agreed on one question. If you ever learned to count, you would know that was more than one.”

Thor grinned. “No, those are follow-up questions to the same topic. Because a two-word reply does not count as an answer. And we have two hours to kill!” Thor gave him a couple of whacks, left, right, left, keeping the Loki on his feet. “So. Frozen Food. What kind? I am sure you don't eat ice cream all day. ”

Loki huffed, dancing from side to side to avoid the blows. “I don't know what ice cream is. We eat fish. Grains. Meat, if we can get it.”

Thor laughed. “Usually, when we talk, you have more words to insult me than anyone I know, but when I ask a question you are more closed up than the legs of a virgin. Come on, Jotun, you can do better than that!”

Loki snarled, stabbing low, feeling satisfied as he hit flesh with a hollow thump. Thor winced.  
“I am not sure what else you want to know. Fish is a staple diet, just as meat. Both are usually sliced into thin strips before eaten. The Icen Cows are good, but kept mostly for their milk. Glacier Yaks are delicious, but rare. Grains are grown and harvested. And we eat Wolves only when....” Loki hesitated “...only if necessary.”

Necessary.  
Loki shivered.

Food was scarce in Jötunheimr, in the Winters even more so.  
Loki doubted that Thor had ever experienced real hunger as a child. Hunger that gnawed in your stomach, bloating it wickedly even though it was empty like a hollow drum. He doubted that the Odinson ever had to fight for his food, ever felt himself waste away, unable to move as the days passed by without nourishment.  
He was sure that Thor never witnessed anyone starve to death in front of his own eyes.  
Loki remembered nights spent at the window of his small chamber, waiting for the return of Warriors who had gone out to hunt. Driven by hunger, they were forced to chase down any living creature in the dark snow storms, including the large blue Icen Wolves. He recalled the taste of the bitter flesh of the predators, as it tormented his stomach, forcing it to cramp for days.  
But anything was better than starving.  
Anything. 

Loki was pulled back to reality by a soft knock to his side.  
He realized that he had zoned out for a moment. Again. Unwilling tears had risen to his eyes, but, thankfully, not spilled.

Thor watched him thoughtfully, but if he had noted the sheen in the red eyes, he did not comment. Instead he carefully brought the blade down again, hitting it lightly against the Frost Giant's sword.  
Loki snarled and gripped the leather-bound hilt tighter. He swung, realizing how good it felt to hit something in his anger, frustration swamping him.  
They fought in silence for several minutes until Loki ran out of breath once more, allowing more hits through his already shaky defenses. 

Thor cleared his throat. “What about the Great Beasts of Jötunheimr? Do you eat those?”

Loki stopped fighting and lowered his weapon, staring at the Thunderer, appalled. “Of course not. They are holy. They are as old as time itself. It would be a sacrilege to eat them.”

Thor seemed to consider the answer, then finally he nodded his head. “Fair enough.”

He dealt another blow, and Loki backed off, panting with effort to hold off the strikes that came in a quick succession. Thor realized that the Jötun was struggling and eased off. “So how is your food prepared? Do you ever roast it? Cook it? Broil it? Salt it? Honey it? You can't just eat it raw, that's disgusting.”

Loki looked up, red eyes blazing under long lashes. “What are you, Mighty Thunderer of Asgard, a cook? Are we going to trade recipes now, so you can sneak into the kitchens at night, to prepare dishes when no one can see you?” 

Thor smirked, not insulted by the slander. “And what if I did? I enjoy food. I am interested. Now tell me, Loki-Horrible-at-Sword-Fighting!”

Loki swatted at him for the insult, but was easily countered, and he received a light blow to his arm. It would probably not bruise, but it still smarted. Loki hissed.  
“If you had been paying attention, I already mentioned that the fish and meat is usually thinly sliced and eaten raw. There are some herbal dipping sauces, but they vary by the season and availability. We really don't cook any of the meat we consume.”

“ _Raw_ ” Thor seemed surprised by the statement, his mouth curling down in distaste. “That's disgusting!”

Loki fought off another blow, shaking his head. “Not really, it is actually delicious and highly nourishing, for it retains all of the supplements and vitamins.” He stabbed at Thor, quickly, landing another rare blow to the Odinson's upper arm. He noted the reluctant features of his opponent. “But obviously your culinary tastes are far above ours. You roast your animals whole, char the outside and leave it cold on the inside so you can suck at the warm blood when it seeps out. That, of course, is much less repulsive. And I am sure that you have tried your fair share of Jötnar dishes before you passed your judgment. After all, it would not be like you to make disrespectful assumptions about something you know nothing about.”

Thor stared at Loki thoughtfully, jaw working. He dealt out another blow, this one harder. The Icen prince caught it with his blade and retaliated. They fought in silence for a quarter of an hour, until the Frost Giant tired once more, his body not used to the continuous strain of training. 

Thor noticed, for he eased up, hitting lightly. He took the opportunity to continue his relentless questioning. “So what is your favorite food?”

Loki watched Thor's blade wearily. The first thing that flashed into his head was a thick gruel that had been hard to come by when he was a child, for grain struggled to grow under the continuous force of the Icen winds. But instead of the taste, he could only remember how nourishing it had been, and how full he had felt every time he could get his hands on it.  
How sated.  
And that had been a rare feeling when he grew up.  
Having a favorite food was a privilege one could have only when living in abundance, not when hungering.

“I don't have one.” Loki shrugged, landed a blow, was hit in return. 

“Come on, everybody has a favorite food. Maybe a sweet?”

Loki snorted. “Sweets are hard to come by in Jötunheimr. Most of the time we are trying not to starve. So no candies, no.” Thor continued to stare at him, and Loki shrugged. “I don't know, Yak is pretty good, I guess.”

“Mmmmm.”The Odinson was grumbling. “Haven't tried Icen Yak yet.” He dealt out a particularly hard blow, and Loki winced at the recoil of his weapon.

“Yours?” The question slipped over Loki's tongue without thinking, and everything in him bristled at the friendly tone he had been using. He gritted his teeth. His arms were beginning to shake and Thor, that thrice-cursed oaf, did not even start to show strain. 

Thor beamed at him. “Meat, of any kind. I prefer game though, and it tastes best when I have hunted it myself, like boar and bilgesnipe. Apples are good as well. And I like the dark bread stuffed with different sorts of grains and nuts. And....”

Loki interrupted, drily. “So you like everything then, yes?”

Thor grinned at him. “Yeah. Not too big on some of the bitter greens my mother likes to eat, but otherwise, anything is good.”

Loki could not suppress a little smile at that. 

Thor was giving Loki space to attack him, backing up every time the Frost Giant stepped up to him. “What's your favorite Asgardian food then?”

Loki groaned. “Enough with the questions. I have answered more than my fair share.”

Thor studied him, and with two hard blows had Loki stumbling back, tripping over his own feet. Quickly the Thunderer hooked his leg behind the Frost Giant's and pushed him down, onto the floor. Loki fell back, onto the sand.  
He was exhausted.  
Thor stretched out his hand. “That's enough for today, what do you think?”

Loki nodded and stared at the offered hand, looking up at the Odinson. Thor was smiling, his face open and honest. Loki took it, allowing himself to be pulled up.

“Yeah. Enough for today.”

He watched as Thor cleared away the swords, golden hair shining in the setting sun.

 

X

 

Less than 3 months later another visitor day was upon them. 

Loki became increasingly wary every time the event took place, for so far no one had visited him, and he was growing more and more homesick with each passing decade. In the 213 years he had spent as a peace-hostage, he had not received any word from his father or brothers, not a single letter from Jötunheimr. The young prince had spent more of his life in Asgard than he had in the Icen Realm, a prisoner in anything but the name. 

Loki wanted to go home. 

When dawn was breaking that visitor day, he did not join the other peace-hostages in the waiting hall, but instead chose to sit in one of the public gardens that had a good view over the rainbow bridge. Even though he did not admit it, Loki hoped that now, being almost fully sexually matured, his father would call him back.  
Send someone to give him the news.  
Maybe even one of his brothers.  
Anything. 

So the Jötnar sat and watched as the suns rose, the Bifröst starting to flash in erratic intervals, drawing in visitors from all the realms. He observed in silence as guests made their way along the rainbow bridge, keeping an eye out for his own kin, Frost Giants easy to spot even from far away. 

But there was nothing.  
No one came.

When the suns reached their peaks and started their descent into the afternoon, Loki stood. There was a heavy ball of anger curling in the pit of his stomach, for he had been forgotten once more.  
Slowly he made his way back to the pebbled path connecting the gardens, focusing on the rough surface under his feet. Loki tried to ignore the burning in his eyes, blaming the different blooming flowers and herbs along the way.  
It was not the first time that Loki wondered whether Laufey had decided to leave him on Asgard, however it was the first time he actually _believed_ that the king of Jötunheimr had truly abandoned him. He was fairly sure that he would have to spend the rest of his days among brutes and hostages, an idle plaything to the Allfather and his oaf son. 

Loki continued to walk, numbly, his feet carrying him to the garden at the border of the realm. There he stopped and stared out into the eternity of the universe, into infinity.  
After a while he sat down, feet dangling over the edge into space.

Loki's mind was a malström of thoughts, wondering how long Odin would allow him to stay in Asgard, for the Icen prince was an extra mouth to feed, a burden without any value. He asked himself when the day would come that he would simply be told to pack is things and be sent back to Jötunheimr in shame, threatening the already shaky truce between the realms. Or would be doomed to stay in Asgard, a forgotten prince growing older by the day, roaming the halls with no purpose to his life?

Loki sighed, massaging his forehead. It would not do to dwell on those thoughts, for as much as he wished, he could not influence his fate. He knew he was no more than a pawn to two feuding kings, but all in all it was not the life he had imagined for himself.  
So Loki hung his head and allowed anxiety to wash over him, dwelling in the feeling of abandonment and frustration. 

It was about two hours later that Thor found the Laufeyson still sitting at the same spot, staring into space, lost in thoughts.  
Memories of how he had found the Jötun in this garden for the first time rolled over him, and he remembered how annoyed he had been with Loki for occupying it then.  
It seemed like ages ago.  
For after six months of sparring with the Icen prince, Thor had grown to like him, whose mind and tongue was sharper than many a sword. 

Thor stepped up into the gardens, clearing his throat to warn the Jötun that he was alone no more. 

Loki flinched visibly at the interruption, and then turned slowly, his red eyes glittering with anger when they fell upon the Thunderer. His mouth curled downward, his voice was close to a hiss. “Have you come to mock me, Odinson? Come to remind me that I am not wanted, neither here nor there?”

The Thunderer did his best not to wince at the hard look, thinking he did not deserve such scathing words. He had been on his best behavior for months now, hardly mocking or insulting at all. But Thor also realized that the visitor day was painful for Loki, and he did his best to ignore the tear tracks glittering on the blue cheeks, already drying in the sun. He knew the Frost Giant would not thank him if he pointed them out. 

Thor stopped at a respectful distance, shaking his head at the question. “No, I have not come to mock you. I have been wondering about your well-being.”

The Jötun snarled at him. “Get lost! Leave me in peace! I don't need your idiocy anywhere near me at the moment!” Loki's heart hurt, and he wanted to be alone. 

Thor did not move, but he held out his hand, something small and round resting on a tissue in his palm. “I did not mean to disturb you in your thoughts, I just wanted to bring you something.”  
He stepped a little closer. “It is a specialty of Vanaheimr, a local sweet made by spiders that are being fed honey. It takes forever to produce, and is highly priced. I thought you might like to taste it.”

Loki stared at the small, golden treat, shaking his head. “I am not hungry.”

Thor smiled softly. “You misunderstand. It is not eaten to still hunger. It is eaten to feel pleasure.”

Loki's eyes narrowed, curling his arms protectively around his legs. He was still snarling. “Fine! Then I do not want to feel any pleasure.”

Thor smirked, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “One should always be open for pleasure, Laufeyson. Life does not provide the possibility very often.”

Loki spat at him, pushing himself into a stand. If the oaf was not going to leave, he would.  
“How very philosophical, Thor. Did you read it somewhere? In a book, even?” His anger was bubbling close to the surface. “If you don't leave, I will.”

Thor measured him with an even gaze.

“Your tongue is sharper than usual, Loki. You are sulking.”

“LEAVE ME BE!”

Thor stepped back, realizing that Loki was not up for an exchange of words this day, and he slowly backed off. He bent down next to a knee-high stone close-by and set down the sticky sweet, making sure that Loki could see what he was doing. 

Thor gave another nod and then left when the Jötnar snarled at him again. 

Loki listened to the heavy steps of the Odinson leaving, and sat back down. 

His head was teeming with emotions, and he felt like he was floating on a cloud of sadness and anger, both combined canceling each other out. He watched numbly as ants found the delicacy Thor had brought, more and more crowding around it, covering it with their small, black bodies.

Loki sat until well after nightfall, watching as the insects took apart the sugary sweet and carried the pieces off, one by one. Only when his own stomach growled loud enough for him to be disturbed by it did he make his way back to his rooms. 

 

He hated visitor days.


	13. A training regime

The weeks and months continued to pass, and Thor and Loki maintained their training regime. Once a week, rain or shine, they met in the sand of the school arena and sparred. 

The Frost Giant took well to the training. His body stopped hurting as time passed, gaining endurance with the repeated exercise. His muscles, rather than growing in a bulging mass like the Odinson's, stretched and hardened, giving his lithe form a hard, sinewy quality of pure strength. 

It suited the Jötun well. 

Thor always prepared one question, and brought it to their meetings, week after week, to keep them occupied while they trained. Every time there was a new theme, many of the subjects focusing on the life in the Icen Realm. Sometimes Loki answered without hesitation, sometimes he right-out refused.   
For Loki never forgot who they were.   
The sons of two feuding kings. 

x

 

“So, what do you do for fun?”

Loki smirked, watching Thor closely as he prepared for battle. Another day, another fight, another question. He sighed and relaxed, prepared for the first hit when it came down on him. The Odinson's movements were fast and precise, he was not holding back the way he used to when they first started their training. Loki had grown much stronger and his sword-handling technique had improved considerably. Their fights were now dealt with hard blows and breathtakingly fast movements, and when wood hit on wood, the impact echoed between the buildings. 

Loki gave a couple of whacks, ducked, sprinted forward, ducked again, thrusting his blade towards Thor's body in quick succession. 

What he did for fun? In Jötunheimr?   
No such thing.  
At least not as far as he could remember. 

“We wrestle.” Loki tried hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but to no avail. 

Thor laughed under his breath, jumping backward to escape an especially vicious jab, hitting hard against Loki's sword. “I don't mean Frost Giants in general. I mean you. What do _you_ do for fun?”

Loki snorted, catching a hit from above, close from hitting his shoulder. “I like reading.” His voice was dry. Most of the capital knew that the Icen prince spent more time in the library than anyone else. Even Thor, slow and dull as he was, must have heard about it. 

The Odinson laughed at him outright. “Sound boring.”

Loki sneered. “Only to a brute like you.”

Thor grinned at him good-naturedly, and dealt another, bone-crushing swing of his blade. “I mean, what do you do for _fun_. Like hunting or riding, stuff like that.”

Loki rolled his eyes, dancing to the side to escape a hit. “Reading can be _fun_ , whether you believe it or not. But I can see that there is no use explaining the value of reading to someone who is more or less illiterate.” He quickly went down to his knees and stabbed up, trying to break through Thor's defenses from below. But the Thunderer was quick to counter him.   
Loki growled in annoyance. “Anyway, there are no horses in Jötunheimr, so riding was not something I ever indulged in. But when I was still little, I would explore the castle grounds and its surroundings, and that was fun, I guess.”

“Sounds even more boring.” Thor's toothy grin got even wider. 

Loki grimaced. “I am sorry my hobbies are not appealing to you.”

“That's not it.” Thor looked at him thoughtfully, his eyes flicking away from their fight for a mere second, studying Loki's face. “Did you...walk alone? In Jotunheim, I mean?”

Loki snapped immediately. “It is called Jötunheimr, you fumbling idiot! How often do I have to remind you?”

Thor was not affronted by the insult, as usual. “Sorry. I will try to remember.” He dealt another heavy blow, which Loki thwarted and countered. “So, were you alone? Was that not dangerous for you? To be without protection?”

Loki knitted his brow, stepping back, eyes trained on the Thunderer's sword. “I am sure I don't know what you mean. Of course I would walk alone, I did not have a bodyguard to follow me everywhere I went. Why should I?”

Thor shrugged his shoulders. “I guess, I thought you being an Ergi, it would be risky to walk unattended...”

This time Loki's snarl was real, and deeply offended. “The last time I was at home I was a child. And no, Jötnar do not harm children, whatever you may think of them.” His voice was like acid, scathing. “Also, I am a prince. I wear the markings of the house of Laufey. Even now no-one would dare claim me without the direct permission of my father. It is known.”

The Frost Giant turned and swung his sword down with all his might, hitting the Thunderer straight against his chest with a hard thud.   
Thor doubled over wheezing, dropping his own weapon as he gasped for air.   
His arm shot up, clawing at where he had been hit, while he tried to pull oxygen into his lungs.

Loki stepped back, eyes glowering.   
His aim had been good, he had hit the bundle of nerves just above the gut that, while immensely painful, would not deal permanent injury. 

“Sorry if I... offended you...” Thor was pulling air into his lungs in short, painful gasps. 

Loki rolled his eyes, but he was somewhat soothed by the obvious pain that showed on the Thunderer's face. “Frost Giants don't rape children. We are not animals. Get that into your thick skull.” He watched as Thor heaved and sputtered, rubbing at an errant tear that sneaked its way down his red cheeks. 

Loki smirked, twirling his sword.   
It felt good to get back at the Odinson, even if it was just once in a while.  
Usually it was him that looked like a blue leopard after their sessions, bruised by the blows that their advanced training brought along. He had shed many a tear in this arena, so seeing the Thunderer finally getting his due felt... good. It appeased him, somewhat. “What do you do for fun, mighty Thor? Apart from killing things, obviously?”

The Odinson straightened, slowly. He was still wheezing, his head a bright red from the lack of air. “I enjoy... fighting. At least... usually... And riding.”

Loki sneered at the answer. “Sounds brutish. But of course, I should have known that killing something, _anything_ is usually the highlight of your day.”

Thor was standing again, his breath still labored, but it was easier now, and the pain seemed to have lessened. “You're just jealous... that if you ever got into a fight... you would be dead... in two seconds flat.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. 

He gave Thor a once-over glance, taking in the stupid grin that spread over the other's lips, the way the Odinson picked up and raised his sword again, preparing to continue their fight. 

The Thunderer had recovered.  
Good.

Loki stepped back and flicked his wrist at the Asgardian, binding his legs with his seiðr, immobilizing them. He darted forward and gave Thor a hard shove, stepping to the side as he fell like a tree trunk, his arms flaying before he crashed onto the floor. The Thunderer let out a surprised uuufffff as he hit the sand of the arena. Quick as a viper, Loki stepped up and pressed his foot onto Thor's sword hand, thrusting his wooden blade against his throat.   
“Dead.”  
Loki could not suppress the triumphant smirk that flashed over his features. 

The Odinson stared up at him, and in the blink of an eye pulled Loki's knee towards himself, hauling the Jötun to the floor. In one fluid motion he rolled on top of the Frost Giant and wrestled his sword from him, pressing the slighter frame into the sand. Loki was splayed under the bulk of Thor's unyielding body, heaving breaths, and then he felt the wooden blade press against the back of his neck.  
Thor taunted “Who's dead now, Jotun?”  
Loki snarled.  
With his next breath his hands were alight with fire, dancing dangerously on his fingertips. “Don't tempt me, Odinson.”   
Loki turned his head to the side, glowering at the Asgardian who was staring down at him. For a long moment the opponents glared at each other, both breathing heavily in the hot, afternoon sun. All of a sudden Loki was aware of the musky odor wavering off the Thunderer in thick waves, a scent of fresh sweat, leather and sunlight.   
Not a bad smell, by any means. 

Loki struggled slightly, snarling. “Get off me, you big brute!”

Thor stared for a moment longer, blue eyes studying the Frost Giant caught beneath him, a hard-to-read look on his features. Then the moment was over, and he rolled to the side, his legs still fused together. The Odinson rumbled. “Release me then, Jotun-coward.”

Loki extinguished the flames flickering from his fingers, and pushed himself off the sand into a kneeling position. His whole front was covered in the yellow dirt, and he patted himself down. “Coward? It's called finesse and strategy. Do you still think I could survive no more than 2 seconds in a fight?”

Thor jerked his bound legs impatiently, the ever-lasting smile finally wiped off his features. “You played against the rules! You are not supposed to use magic when training. Release me!” He was glowering at the Frost Giant, and Loki laughed at the obvious indignation on the other's face.   
He gave a quick flick of his wrist, and the legs of the Odinson fell open. 

“In a real battlefield I would have access to my seiðr, and with that I would have you down on your knees faster than you could imagine. So no, Odinson, if I ever got into a fight, I would not be dead within two seconds.” Loki smiled sweetly, rising up to his feet. He looked down at his opponent splayed in the sand. “But you might be.”

Thor scowled at him, taking Loki's offered hand to pull himself to a stand. “I should have known a Jotun never plays fair.”

Loki shrugged. “Mope all you want, Odinson, I could still beat you.”

Thor stared at him, look calculating. “No one beats me.”

Loki smiled. “I guess we shall see the day you try to take down Jötunheimr”

Thor glared at him for a moment longer, than he threw back his head, and boomed laughter. “I guess we shall, Laufeyson, I guess we shall.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent with easy sparring, the banter between the two opponents lighthearted. Loki was almost sorry when the day was over.

x

That night Loki could not stop thinking about Thor pressing him down into the sand, hot and heavy on top of him. He pulled the cool sheets over his burning face, and tossed and turned until dawn. 

 

x

 

And the weeks and months continued to pass.

 

x

 

Thor and Loki had been practicing for almost two years now, week in and week out. 

Sometimes the Odinson would be called off to battle in another realm, and would disappear for days and weeks on end. Loki always grumbled at his absence, but he swore to himself that he did not miss the company of that brutish oaf of a prince, he did not. 

The Frost Giant continued his training by himself, but there was no challenge in hitting a wooden dummy that did not counter his attacks. Loki trained with bored, repetitive motions, and spent most of his time reciting spells in his head or revising the classes he had attended. But sometimes, just rarely, his mind slipped, and he caught himself wondering where Thor was, and what idiotic question he would bring along once he came back. When Loki caught his errant thoughts, he would always snap back to the present immediately, chastising himself for the stupid notion.   
For _missing_ the Odinson was a ridiculously bad idea. 

Loki knew that their time training together would soon come to an end. The Jötun had more or less caught up to the class when it came to his swordsmanship, even surpassing some of the other students. And once the Valkyrja released him of the extra training, Loki would go back spending his afternoons studying in the library by himself, and Thor would... do whatever he did during the day. Killing things, probably.

And if Loki ever got to return to Jötunheimr, he would never see that brute again.   
Except on the opposite side of a battlefield. 

He told himself, again and again, that it did not matter.  
Thor was the son of his father's enemy, an oaf with less intelligence than he had in his little finger.

So Loki trained alone for the weeks to come, and never kept a lookout when it was time for the Odinson to return. He did not.   
And, by the Norns, a smile never crept over his features the next time he stepped up to the school arena, and noted that big brute leaning against one of the fences. 

 

Thor had been gone for almost three weeks, and now he was standing leisurely next to a bale of hay, grinning in greeting as the Frost Giant approached him.   
The Thunderer was a little more sunburned than usual, sporting a deep, but healing scratch across the side of his throat. There were dark streaks of dirt or blood matting his hair on the left side and half of his eyebrows were scorched off.   
Obviously the Odinson had been, once more, killing things, but it appeared he was all right.   
Not that Loki cared. 

“Loki! There you are!” Thor stood, walking up to the slight Frost Giant. He was beaming, looking immensely pleased with himself. “I have been waiting for you!”

The Jötun grimaced at the boom of Thor's voice. “Thor. I can see whoever you have been fighting once more failed to kill you. Shame, really.”

Thor grinned broadly, laying a heavy hand on Loki's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “I brought something for you! A gift.”

The Frost Giant pulled a face, swatting at the too-warm hand on his cool skin. “That's nice. Don't touch me.” Thor's grin never left his face, but he did as he was told, and withdrew. He turned to walk back to the bale of hay, and only when the Thunderer bent down did Loki notice a small, white chest sitting on the floor. Thor opened it carefully and pulled a small package from the box, before turning back towards the Frost Giant. Loki skeptically eyed the very colorful object, and he watched as Thor cautiously took it by its broad side and peeled a thin layer off the palm-sized item.

“You said that you did not know what iced cream was. It is a delicacy from Midgard.” Thor's hand shot out, holding it in front of Loki's nose. “Here. Try.”

Loki rolled his eyes at how ridiculously pleased the Odinson was, and he reached out to take the gift. 

He was surprised when he touched it, for it radiated coolness. 

Loki turned the object in his fingers, taking in the three colors of the treat, red, white and brown, layered side-by-side. The broad front and back was covered in a thin, sand-colored wafer, its texture slightly rough under his fingers.  
The Frost Giant waited as Thor took a second, similar item from the box. The Odinson peeled it, dropping the colorful layer carelessly back into the open container. Then his blue eyes flicked up, boring into red ones. It seemed like Thor could not wipe that grin of his face. “You have to lick it, Loki.” He raised the iced cream to his lips. “You will like it. It is frozen.”

Loki watched as Thor mouthed along the sides of the delicacy, his red tongue flicking out, and he took a long, almost obscene lick. Loki snorted, could not suppress a smile. He studied the sweet once more, then raised it to his lips and licked, tentatively.   
It was sweet.   
Smooth and creamy, flavors of fruits he had never tasted before layering in his mouth, the different colors switching the aroma. 

It was delicious.

Loki returned Thor's smile openly, and sucked at the sides of the iced cream, enjoying the frosty essence swamp his mouth.

Thor bit out a large chunk, chewing noisily, slurping at drops of cream that melted and ran over his fingers. “It is from Midgard, from a place called Italy. They make the best iced cream in the universe, let me tell you. I tried loads. ”  
He sat back down on the bale of hay, patting the free space next to him. Loki hesitated only for a moment before he sat down next to the Odinson. 

Loki closed his eyes, fully concentrating on the treat. He loved how cold it was, a stark contrast to the hot air all around him, filling his own tepid mouth with much-appreciated coolness. It somewhat reminded him of home, even if the flavors did not.   
The aroma was layered, there was one side, the dark one, a wonderful mixture of bitter and sweet, with light earthy tones, a deep and substantial taste. The white part in the middle had a somewhat smoky flavor, but more pure than the dark one, curling luxuriously around his tongue. And last was the pink part, light and sweet, tasting somewhat fruity, the aroma the strongest in front of his mouth.   
All of them were delicious. 

Thor grinned when he saw the bliss on Loki's face, leaning in close. “So, how do you like it? I told you you would enjoy it, didn't I?”

The Frost Giant blinked his eyes open lazily, sucking at the iced cream. The sweet was slowly melting in the heat of Asgard's afternoon sun, snaking down his fingers and chin, covering him in sticky sugariness. 

He nodded, and smiled. “It's nice.”

Thor's eyes widened dramatically, and he pushed the last of the treat into his mouth, chewing on the soggy wafer, licking his fingers clean. “Nice? _Nice?_ I beat a horde of Chitauri, and instead of coming home straight away I flew all the way to Napel for you. I had to walk into a store, giving the merchant almost a heart-attack because I was covered in blood to bring you this special gift, and all you can say is it's _nice_?” Thor threw up his hands in expatiation. “What would I have to do for you to tell me it is amazing? Wonderful? Incredible?”

Loki grinned, licking at the small piece left between his fingers, pushing it into his mouth.   
He enjoyed it as the last bit of coolness slid down his throat, and then it was gone. His eyes flicked over to Thor, who was still leaning in close.

The Frost Giant smirked. “Fine. It was _very_ nice.”

Absentmindedly he ran his finger along the trails of melted cream on his chin, scooping up some of the liquid and licking the sweet, sticky cream off his fingers. 

He realized that Thor had quieted and he looked up again, the Odinson's eyes trained on his lips, and his wet fingers he had just drawn from his mouth. His pupils were blown, and he was holding his breath. 

A thought came to Loki's mind, dark and wicked. 

He trailed his pinkie slowly along the cool flesh of his chin, where the melted sweet had dribbled down, and brought some of it back to his lips, flicking his tongue at the sweet cream. Calmly he pushed the finger into his mouth and sucked at it, twirling his purple tongue languidly around his flesh.

Thor stared at him, mouth slightly agape. 

Loki smiled. He removed the finger from his mouth, and then ran his index finger along his lips, scooping up more of the melted treat. He licked it clean with long, even strokes, red eyes never leaving the blue ones trained on him.   
Thor continued to stare. His Adam’s apple was working in silent swallows, and he blinked when the Frost Giant pushed his middle finger into his mouth, sucking at it audibly. 

Seven more fingers to go. 

Loki took his time, his tongue rasping along his cool flesh, never taking his eyes of the Odinson, who was entranced with him cleaning himself. 

Once there was no more melted cream left on his skin, he took to simply cleaning his fingers, for they were sticky with the thawed treat, and when he sucked at them he could still taste the sweetness.

At the end, when only his thumb was left, Loki lifted his hand and brought it over to Thor's lips, tenderly wiping away a thin trail of cream that had run down to his beard. When he brought it back to his own mouth, Thor groaned, a rumble low in his throat. His voice rasped. “Loki...”

The Jötun let go of his finger with a wet pop, lapping at any left-over moisture, smiling sweetly. “That was delicious, Thor. _Very nice._. Thank you.”   
The Odinson was still staring at him, blinking like an owl. He did not look very smart.  
Loki stood slowly, stretching his limbs and then turned his head toward the arena.   
“So, are we still going to spar today? Or did you just want to impress me with frozen candy from Midgard, and then go back to your rooms? I am fine training by myself, if need be. But it is time for me to start my routine.”

Thor closed his mouth with an audible snap, and he cleared his throat, voice slightly deeper than usual. “No, we can... we can spar.”

Loki picked up two wooden swords, throwing the second blade to the Thunderer, who caught it easily with one hand.

“Come on, then, Odinson, show me how you kill things when you leave me all by myself.”

Thor joined him, and for quite some while his movements seemed sluggish and somewhat dazed, fighting as if he was in a dream. 

 

x

The hungry look on the Odinson's face, when Loki licked his own fingers, haunted his dreams that night. 

x

 

No less than two weeks later, Pyrgomache told Loki that she was happy with the progress he had been making, and released him from the extra training sessions.

He refused to feel sorry about it.   
He dismissed the notion that he might have come to cherish those afternoons grappling in the sun with that thick-headed oaf. 

He had to go back to his old life. 

Whatever that meant.


	14. A surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. So, just to clarify, here Loki is around 15 years old and Thor is maybe 18. Did you hope that the ages would make sense from the start? Yeah....maybe not so much. I decided to blame it on God's aging, Jotuns are children much longer and then rapidly grow, reaching sexual maturity earlier, while Asgardians dick around longer as teenagers. Gods can be between 5,000 - 10,000 years old, so most of their lives they spend as grown-ups anyway.  
> Confused yet? Good. I kind of confused myself and in turn get to confuse you. So just bare with me. Thanks. 
> 
> A huge thank you to uluka, my amazing beta-reader. I would not be able to present the story as it is without her. There would be LOADS more mistakes. Cause my English no good, also I stare at this story for many hours a week, and at one point I miss the most obvious bullshit. Yeah. 
> 
> And remember, kudos and comments are love and much appreciated. More or less, they make it worth all the work I put into this. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Another visitor day was upon them.  
Another 10 years had gone by.

Loki's mood had been sour weeks in advance. He had withdrawn physically and mentally, wondering what to do with the free day that would only remind him of how lonely he was.  
How abandoned.

On the morning of the festivities Loki was sitting in his rooms, staring idly at an open book without actually reading it. There was a loud knock on his door and, annoyed, he rose to answer.  
Loki was not expecting any visitors, and he was not in the mood for idle banter.  
Not today of all days. 

And everybody knew it. 

So he was not really surprised to see Thor standing outside, grinning in a way that made Loki want to punch him.

“Hey there! What are you doing today? Sulking, as usual?” Thor stepped forward quickly when the Frost Giant tried to throw the door in his face. He laughed quietly, under his breath. “Thought so. Stop moping, Loki, it does not suit you. Join me instead.”

Loki stared at him, eyes narrowed. Thor was sporting his usual, open grin, and the Frost Giant noted that he was dressed in light gray pants and a red linen shirt, far more casual than he would be for a official meeting or feast.  
Whatever he wanted to do, it would keep them away from people.  
Maybe.

Still, Loki was in a bad mood and did not care to hide it. Thor _knew_ how much he hated visitor days. He crossed his arms and glowered at the Odinson from beneath long lashes. “Join you for what?”

Thor looked at his fingernails, looking incredibly smug. “It's a surprise.”

Loki frowned. “I hate surprises.”

Thor's grin broadened, if that was even possible. “I know.”

Loki snarled, weighing his options.  
He could stay here, try to concentrate on his magical texts and be alone with his thoughts that were aggravating him already.  
Or he could see what Thor had to offer, and irritate the hell out of _him_.  
Could be fun. 

At least more than sitting around by himself. 

So Loki nodded, warily. “Fine. But if I don't like it, I am leaving. And if you annoy me in any way, I am going to set your shoes on fire when you least expect it.”

Thor let out a low laugh. “Of course you will. Now come on, I don't have all day.”

Loki rolled his eyes and took a quick look at his room. There was nothing he needed, so he followed the Odinson out into the cool hallway.  
Thor turned left, which was the general direction of the great meeting hall, and Loki swore under his breath. “If you take me to the feast, I swear by the Norns, Thor....”

“Oh, stop your whining, Jotun. I think you will like what I have planned.” Thor continued walking without checking whether the other was behind him.

Loki scowled, but he followed. This was far too intriguing not to. And maybe he somehow hoped that he would get to set Thor's shoes on fire after all...  
He was in that kind of mood. 

The Asgardian took a turn and another, leading Loki into a wing he was not familiar with, and then threw open a small, wooden side-door and stepped outside. Loki followed and stopped, blinking when he was briefly blinded by the rays of the scorching morning sun.  
He looked around and realized, startled, where Thor had taken him.  
The Odinson continued walking towards the royal stables, all the way up to a blond, teenaged boy who held on to the bridles of two saddled horses, one white and one black. Thor took the reins from the lad and thanked him, turning towards Loki, beaming.

“Today we are going for a ride.”

Loki was lost for words, if only for one moment. He walked forward gingerly, eyes wandering over the horses, well-bred, tall, fur a healthy sheen. The white steed was broad, heavily muscled, a war horse sporting a red blanket with Thor's insignia stitched on it with golden thread. The black animal was sleeker, displaying a wiry strength, its sharp eyes focusing on the approaching Frost Giant. Thor grinned as Loki stepped up to the black steed and raised his hand to stroke over the velvety muzzle, gently as not to spook the animal. It flicked its ears towards him and let out a low nicker. 

Loki stared at Thor. “Where are we going?”

The Odinson grinned at him.”I told you, it's a surprise. But it will be better than sitting in your rooms all day brooding, that I can guarantee you.”

Loki looked at the black horse again. He wanted to put up at least some token resistance, wanted to snarl and bristle, but he longed to get out of the capital, even if it was just for a couple of hours.  
Even if it was in the company of the Odinson. 

Thor took his silence for compliance and mounted the white steed with ease, holding it fast as it danced, chewing on its bridle. Loki stroked along the silky neck of the black stallion soothingly, murmuring low words of endearment as he walked to its side. He growled when one of the stable boys stepped up to help him in the saddle, and the placed his naked foot into the leather stirrup, pulling himself up. He sat, satisfied, stroking the dancing horse underneath him. 

Thor grinned at him. “Let's go.” 

Loki just nodded and steered his horse to follow Thor out of the courtyard.

x

 

The Odinson guided him out of the city until they left the last houses behind, and steered their horses onto a path leading them into the open grasslands. The dirt road was broad enough for Loki to maneuver his steed next to Thor's, and they rode in silence for a long while until the capital vanished behind them. Loki savored the cool wind easing over his skin, playing with his hair, the slow, rhythmic motion of the horse beneath him. 

Thor broke the silence first. “So I have another question.”

Loki was at ease as they climbed over a hill and made their way down into a valley. For the first time in ages he was without the constant pressure of people around him. He looked over to see Thor smile at him with an open, honest expression. Loki huffed out a breath: “Or course you do. Ask.”

“I was wondering about your magic.” 

Loki's brow furrowed and he fixed his gaze on the Odinson. He pondered the question for a moment. The information Thor asked for was no secret that could be used against his realm, for there was no more magic in Jötunheimr.  
Seiðr was forbidden, after all.  
The Mage's caste was no more. 

Anything he could tell Thor, he could get from any other sorcerer, like his mother Frigga, for example. Or he could look it up in a book.  
Not that Thor would read, unless he absolutely had to. 

Loki smirked at the thought and relaxed again, fixing his gaze back upon the dusty road, his hands loosely curled around the reigns. “What do you want to know?”

Thor led his horse around a shallow hole, clucking his tongue when it danced at a imaginary slight. “When did you know you had magical abilities?”

Loki swallowed, hard. The Odinson seemed to have an infuriating ability to ask questions that triggered unpleasant memories which Loki was not willing to share.  
Not when he was surrounded by beauty and tranquility.  
Actually... probably not ever. 

The Icen prince cleared his throat.“I found out about it just after my horns grew, so maybe when I was 50 or 60, or so. Every day I felt like I had a little more power.”

Thor nodded. “And how does it work?”

Loki laughed at the question. “Magic does not _work_.” He returned Thor's smile, eyes flashing. “It simply _is_. I can feel it, it is in the air, in the earth, in the waters. And I can draw from it, borrow it, use it, and it will always flow back to where it came from, always replenish.” 

Thor hummed, thoughtful. “Is there magic here? Right now?”

Loki snorted. “Of course there is.” He took a deep breath. “There are different types of magic. First and above all is the magic of the universe, radiating from the stars, circling around the planets and always accessible wherever you are. It is old and foreign, but it is everywhere and saturates everything. It just....is. I felt it in Jötunheimr, untrained as I was, and I can feel it in Asgard just the same. And while the universal magic is a constant, it also shifts as the planets and stars move around each other in the never-ending dance of the cosmos. And that energy I can draw from. It is almost humbling.”

Thor laughed under his breath. “You? Humble? What a novel idea.”

Loki bristled for a moment, then smirked. Thor was right, of course. Of the many things that Loki was, quiet, sometimes withdrawn, he was _not_ humble.  
So his answer was good-humored, given with a twinkle in his eye. “Shut up, Odinson.”

Thor laughed softly, throwing Loki a quick glance. “You wish.”

Their steeds continued following the road, calm underneath them, ripping out grass as they walked, chewing noisily.

“You said there were different types of magic. What else is there?”

Loki nodded. “I would have told you if you had not interrupted me so rudely.” He threw Thor a steely look. “Yes, there are other types. There is magic that lies in the soil and rests in the air, flows with the rivers and connects each and every creature of a realm, like a large web or a loosely knit tapestry. It is different for every realm, and the one here is... foreign to me.”

Thor looked intrigued. “Can you draw from it?”

Loki shrugged. “Yes. But it is ever so slightly uncomfortable and alien, which makes it harder to control. It is almost repelling, as if it _knew_ that I am not meant to be part of Asgard. It does not... mesh with my seiðr, if that makes any sense. ”

Thor hummed in agreement. “But the magic in Jötunheimr feels good?”

Loki stiffened, pressing his mouth into a thin line. He stared straight ahead, brow furrowed.  
Stupid, idiotic Thor, always asking the wrong questions.  
Loki ripped at the reigns, and his horse danced to the side nervously, flicking its ears back as it picked up the obvious agitation of its rider. 

Thor looked over, his face falling as he saw the hardened gaze of the Jötun trained ahead of him. He realized that, somehow, he had asked the wrong question and spoiled the moment of ease they had shared.

He cleared his throat. “ Loki, are you ok?”

Loki did not answer for a couple of moments, and then he pressed his breath sharply from his lungs. His voice cold. “No. No, the magic in Jötunheimr does not feel good either. It is broken. Even though I was too young to command it, I could always feel that something was wrong, that it was damaged. The realm in itself is sick.”

Thor shifted uneasy on his horse. 

That had been the wrong question, he was sure. But he did not understand why.  
And he did not want to ruin the beginning of what was supposed to be an enjoyable excursion.

So, wanting to clear the mood, Thor clucked his tongue and leaned forward, his steed flicking its ears at the practiced command, falling into a light trot. He knew that a game was always good to lift the spirits, and he looked back at Loki who was scowling at him. 

“Come on, Jotun, stop sulking and race me.”

The Odinson turned forward and hunched down, and his stallion recognized the challenge for what it was. It trotted faster before it fell into a light canter, flying across the grassy plains.  
Loki's steed immediately fell into pursuit, his inexperienced rider clamping his hands into the black mane, grimacing at the speed that the horse catapulted itself into. He hunched down over the saddle to find his balance, finding it by gripping tight using his thighs and following the flowing rhythm of the horse, swaying his hips with the long canter. 

The wind made his eyes water and whipped his hair behind him. Loki leaned into the neck of his steed, gripping the reigns tight, watching as Thor gained ground ahead of him.  
His heartbeat picked up as adrenalin shot through him, relishing in the speed they were going at. A light lit in Loki's eyes and he let out a blood-curdling scream, his horse beneath him starting and going even faster. Thor turned and grinned back at him, letting the Frost Giant catch up. They raced side by side, standing in their saddles, calling encouragements to their horses to pick up the pace.

They rode hard until Thor slowed them with a raised hand, and Loki bolted past him, his hips glued to the saddle as he swayed smoothly on top of the fast horse.  
He flashed a grin back at Thor, and then reigned his mount, feeling smug as the Thunderer had his horse walk up to him. Both animals were panting with the speed, foam frothing from their mouths, but they were well-bred and used to expanded rides, so they would need little rest before they could be pushed again.

“I won.” Loki grinned, his eyes glowering a challenge.  
Thor grinned back at him. “You sure did.”

Loki felt easier with the peace offering, and they continued on in silence.

 

A little later Thor steered his horse off the main road onto a much smaller path, only wide enough for them to ride behind each other instead of side by side. Loki said nothing as he waited for Thor to lead the way and followed, silently.  
He looked around. It was a beautiful day, slightly cloudy with a stiff breeze that kept him cool, the reeds and high grasses around them singing in different voices as the wind stroked over their hollow stalks. He could make out white herons flying above them, could see several crows sitting on old, gnarly trees nearby. Most of all, he enjoyed the silence. 

After roughly an hour, Loki could make out an enormous tree in the far distance, and the closer they got the more he marveled at its sheer size. It was larger than anything he had ever seen, larger even than some of the highest towers in the capital of Asgard. 

Thor turned back to look at him, and only when he noted the smirk did Loki snap his mouth shut. He frowned, but could not stop staring, in awe. 

The closer they got to the majestic tree, the more details he could make out. The trunk was a dark, silvery gray, the bark cracked deeply in many places, its leaves a green so light they almost seemed white. The branches reached so far into the sky that it gave the impression that they went past the borders of the realm straight into the universe; some were bowing under the weight of dark-red fruits that were foreign to Loki, extending all the way to the ground.  
The Frost Giant had never seen anything like it.

It took them a long while to actually reach the tree. When they did, Thor immediately dismounted right next to the massive trunk, wide enough that more than ten Jötnar Warriors would not be able to reach around it. 

Loki carefully crawled down from the saddle, his legs shaking under the prolonged strain of keeping himself seated.  
His butt hurt.  
He winced when he slowly straightened himself. Then he raised his gaze to the white canopy of leaves above him, marveling at its density, the low rustling a murmuring sound unlike anything he had ever heard before. If the cosmos had a voice, Loki was sure that this would be what it sounded like.  
The Frost Giant looked around, realizing that the lower branches all around him were adorned with small pieces of metal and bells that added a low, melodious chiming when they touched each other, adding to the foreign melody. His gaze continued to wander, and the longer he looked the more details he saw. Anywhere in reach were little pieces of white paper, tied with colorful strings, resembling strange flowers that turned and twirled in the breeze. There were little dolls hung by their necks, painted pictures in golden frames, some new, some so faded he could no more make out the features of the people depicted. There were pieces of clothing lazily rotating in the wind, some small enough to belong to newborns, others clearly from grown-ups. He could make out rare bits of armory, even small coins and pouches swaying in the air. 

Loki stared and turned slowly, eyes picking up new wonders wherever he looked. Finally, overwhelmed, he lowered his gaze, staring at Thor who was sporting a proud grin.  
“What... is this?” His eyes continued to roam, always catching something new, from tiny colorful birds flying above them, to coins and little statues jammed into the ripped bark of the trunk, sparkling in the sunlight.

Thor grinned broadly. He looked very pleased with himself, the oaf.  
“This tree, it is called Mímameiðr. Legends say it is as old as the universe itself, always has been and always will be the heart of Asgard. They say if it is destroyed Ragnarök itself will be upon us. Mímameiðr has great powers, and people come here from all over the realm to pray; young lovers for fertility, pregnant women for strong babes, the dying for a way to eternal peace, the warriors for a place in Valhalla.”  
Thor examined the tree, thoughtfully. “My mother told me that it has strong magic.” He stepped a little closer to Loki, studying him. “Can you feel it?”

Loki looked up once more, admiring the enormous vault above them, reaching unbelievably far into the sky.  
Of course he could feel it.  
There were places of energy all over the universe, he had read about them in books, and standing here he _knew_ that this was one of them. He could _feel_ the magic pulsating lazily around him, surrounding him, becoming more powerful the closer he stepped up to the trunk. 

Loki nodded. “Yes. The magic here is strong. And old. _Ancient_.” He stepped even closer and raised his hand to touch the silvery bark tentatively. 

The moment his skin came in contact with the tree, he could _feel_ the energy of the stars surge through him, streaming into his body, washing into the smallest corners of his being, filling him up with raw power he had not known he missed. Loki closed his eyes and took a deep, open-mouthed breath, raising his second hand to close the circle, his seiðr flowing back into the tree, an exchange of vitality that was... mind -blowing.  
Loki stood, gasping, and waited for his sensitivity to die down, but the seiðr just kept on flowing, filling him up to the brim. He had to let go simply because he was overwhelmed with the sensation of it. Loki stepped back, heaving, raising his hands in front of his eyes, studying them. He somehow expected them to glow or show some indication of the transposition that had just happened, but there was nothing.  
His senses were sharpened in ways he had never experienced before, and when he closed his eyes he was aware of his surroundings in ways he had never believed possible. He could _taste_ the earthy odor of rotting leaves and fertile earth beneath him, _feel_ the melodious rustling of the foliage, _smell_ the movement of the hollow reeds in the cooling wind. 

Loki opened his eyes and slowly turned towards Thor. 

He realized that he was breathing a tad too fast, and that his eyes were wide open; he raised his hand to his heart, noting that it was hammering in his chest. Loki took a consciously slow and deep breath, closed his eyes and opened them again. 

The world around him stopped turning.  
Better. 

Thor was watching him closely, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. My mother told me that sorcerers can react very strongly to the intensity of Mímameiðr's magic. She comes here annually herself, to benefit from its healing energy. I can't feel it, though.” The Odinson shrugged, looking somewhat unhappy with the fact. “Anyway, I thought that you might enjoy it. And it looks like you did, if you don't mind me saying so.” Thor let out a kind laugh, and Loki winced at the loud sound, overwhelmed by the current ability to not only to hear but also feel and taste it.

But Thor was right. The tree radiated good, healing energy, and he had not felt this _whole_ and content in a very long time. Maybe not ever.  
Loki turned, eyes still glued above him. He could not keep himself from drinking in the sight. 

Thor left the Jötun to his own devices and turned to walk back to the horses, opening the belts of the saddles and lifting them off their sweaty backs. He placed them onto the dry, compounded dirt of the ground before he clipped the reigns off both steeds and allowed them to run free. They would come back at the command of a sharp whistle, for they were trained well.  
The Odinson took the two large saddlebags that his own mount had carried, and brought them into the middle of the clearing. “Anyway, I brought something to eat. A picnic, if you will. Once you are done swooning, come and sit.”

“I am not swooning.” Loki's response was automatic, but his words held no bite.  
He was, maybe, a little. 

He took another deep breath and turned to face the Odinson, staring when he saw Thor pull out a thin blanket from one of the saddle bags and spreading it on the dusty ground.  
“Really?” Loki chuckled as he walked towards the tall Asgardian.

The Odinson looked up. “What?”

Loki smiled sweetly. “Oh, nothing, I am just surprised that the great Thunderer of Asgard is in need of a blanket when sitting on the ground.”

Thor huffed. “Well, at least Mímameiðr did not rid you of your sharp tongue.”

He stood over the colorful rug and started taking out the food from the leather bag to set it out on the fabric. Loki leaned in and he could make out a clay flask, with what he expected to be mead, some apples, a couple of white buns, cold meat wrapped in thin leather and a small, round cheese. It was the staple Asgardian diet, and Loki had learned to accept it, even if he did not love it. 

Thor sat down with a groan and leaned back onto the ground, focusing up towards the canopy above them. Loki shuffled up to him, eyes still flicking around, and then lay down next to the Odinson with a contend sigh. His whole body was drumming with energy. 

Thor took an apple and bit into it with a hearty crunch.  
He looked over, studying Loki. “I am glad you liked it.“

Loki turned his head, facing the Odinson. “Why did you bring me here?'

Thor grinned. “I heard my mother speak of it the other day, how good it was for her to come here, how much she looked forward to it every year. She mentioned that any sorcerer would be able to draw... something from this place. And I could think of one Mage that might appreciate coming here. You know, instead of sulking alone in his room.”

Loki glowered at him, but it held no power. He felt too good, too saturated to get into a fight.  
And Thor was right.  
He had appreciated it. 

“But why? What do you want for...”Loki looked back up, waving his hand around, taking everything in. “... _this_?” 

Thor snorted, took another bite from his apple. All of the sudden the Frost Giant realized how ridiculously blue his eyes were. “I wanted to see your face. Wanted to see you enjoy it.”

Loki pushed himself up to a sitting position. He had so much energy, he felt a little giddy.  
“What?” His voice was flat.

Thor hummed under his breath and studied his apple intently. “I mean, I really liked how much you enjoyed the ice cream. So I guess I wanted to see you enjoy _this_ .”  
He looked back over at Loki, a wicked smile on his features.

Oh. 

Loki raised a single eyebrow. “And what would the equivalent of licking my fingers for ice cream be for something like this?”

Thor sat up as well and poured two mugs of mead, handing one to the Frost Giant.  
“I don't know. I thought I would just see what happens.” His eyes were fixed into Loki's red ones. And Loki did not wait, did not hesitate, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss onto Thor's lips, mouth closed, cold lips touching warm skin. 

Thor inhaled sharply. The Jötun grinned at his open-mouthed stare, and took the mug from Thor's hand, smiling smugly.  
“Was that what you had in mind?”

The Odinson swallowed, eyes flicking down at his own mug. When he looked up again his face was somewhat softer. “No.” He carefully placed his mug down onto the floor beside him, then turned towards Loki and leaned in, pressing his barely opened mouth to the Jötun's. Thor exhaled sharply, hot breath ghosting over Loki's cool lips, before he slowly closed his mouth, rubbing his warm skin over the other's coolness. It was less of a kiss than touching of lips, and soon he leaned back again, breath coming rapidly. “But that does not mean that this is not even better than what I had hoped for. ”

Loki stared back at him. He knew, of all the ideas he ever had, this was the worst, but he was brimming with life and at this point he did not care about the animosity of their fathers, the threatening war between their realms. He cared nothing for politics, not here, not now. 

Loki tilted his body forward until the cool skin of his arm touched the feverish heat of the Odinson, and then his hand curled into Thor's silky blond hair, pulling him into another kiss. Loki felt alive, raw energy running through him, and when their lips touched it felt almost as if electricity jumped between them.  
Thor parted his lips and Loki tilted his head to the side to slot them together, rubbing them along each other. The Thunderer's golden beard chafed along his tender skin, lighting it on fire.  
Loki flicked his tongue into Thor's warm mouth, sliding it lazily between the flushed lips to take in their soft texture. With his current expanded senses to taste, feel, smell, he felt like he was surrounded by Thor, a heady mixture of mead and sunlight, of ozone, warmth and musk.  
Loki groaned and pressed his tongue deeper, gliding over teeth and along the inside of his cheeks, as his hands roamed over silky-smooth locks. Thor's hand flew up and took Loki's face between his large palms, breathing heavily as he tangled his tongue around Loki's, pushing back into the tepid mouth of the Frost Giant. His hand came up and grasped at Loki's open hair, twirling soft strands around his fingers, tugging lightly. Loki moaned wantonly at the sensation and leaned closer, swirling his tongue in larger circles, feeling each crease and dip of Thor's mouth, sliding over the hot muscle of his tongue.

Loki withdrew after what could have been ages or the blink of an eye, he did not know. His red eyes flicked open, trained on deep blue ones. Thor returned his gaze.

“So yeah, thanks.” Loki smiled and leaned back onto his hands. He felt good, drunk on life, brimming with raw energy, a warmth he had rarely felt flowing through his limbs. He was rather sure that he was glowing. Loki tipped his head back, closed his eyes. “I have no idea what you are going to do next, because you realize, there is little that can top this, right?”

Thor let out a soft laugh. “I will think of something.”

Loki smirked back. “I am sure you will.”

 

The ride home was longer and shorter than it had a right to be. 

 

x

 

Only later that night did Thor realize what Loki had talked about, when mentioning that the magic of Jötunheimr was broken. The Casket of Ancient Winters had kept the equilibrium of the realm, and without it, it must have collapsed. Now the artifact was secured deep within the bowels of Asgard, kept in a gallery with other forgotten relics that no one ever visited, gathering dust. 

Thor felt something like guilt gnaw in his stomach, and he wondered if he had the right to question his father's decision to take such an essential part of Jötunheimr. 

Surely not.

So Thor pushed it out of his mind and thought about it no more.


	15. A decision to be made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a tiny little chapter because of reasons, so this week you get two! Yay!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Time continued to pass, counted by calender leaves falling, by hair growing longer, by knowledge gathered and lessons learned. There was so much to do in Asgard for a peace hostage, yet at the same time Loki felt like a restless animal in a cage, imprisoned and watched closely by his keepers.

He hated it.  
Also, he was bored out of his mind. 

To pass his time, the Laufeyson took to wandering the seemingly endless streets of the capital of Asgard. Sometimes he would be decked out in the traditional clothes of his people, ignoring the open-mouthed stares and excited whispers when peasants laid their eyes upon him for the first time. Usually, however, he roamed the castle-grounds unseen, cloaked by his invisibility to protect himself from the unwanted scrutiny that followed him wherever he went.

Loki was bored. But not _that_ bored. 

The Icen prince worked himself through the grid of the city, picking a new road or a small neighborhood to explore each time he went. He attended fairs and bazaars, browsed through tiny corner shops and large market halls to pass his time. 

And, in his boredom, Loki developed a taste for mischief. 

Invisible, he started with holding doors closed when patrons tried to leave or enter a store, laughing under his breath when he suddenly let go of the handle, and people stumbled and fell. He stole little trinkets that would not be missed, dropping them off around corners or under tables, sometimes waiting for the owners to realize their loss and crawl around to find the missing objects. He tipped over baskets at market places, rolled apples of tables and was amused when the fat merchant wives would scramble to pick them up again. 

His tricks were mostly innocent and, while annoying, never hurt anybody.

Loki took good care to make it so. 

But the pranks distracted him from the monotony of his life, if just a little, and that was better than nothing. 

x

One evening Loki was roaming through one of the seedier parts of town, streets lined with bare-chested prostitutes and slender boys leaning against brick walls, displaying their bodies in the most lascivious manner. Loki wrinkled his nose at the stench that wafted through the entire area, a combination of old sweat, spilled ale and piss, picking his way carefully so not to get sucked into the fetid mud of the neglected alleyways.  
He was in a better mood than usual, for on that particular day he had mastered a complicated spell that he had been working on for months.  
Loki wished to celebrate.  
He desired some mischief, and maybe some ale. Preferably both. 

The Frost Giant strolled leisurely, stopping every now and then in his path to unlace a horse's reigns in front of a brothel, or set out a leg for a drunken soldier to stumble over.  
At one point he pushed the hat off an enormous, muscled mountain of a man, who was clearly spoiling for a fight, and observed how he walked around in small circles, screaming for the culprit as everyone around him fled. 

Loki finally stopped at a random tavern, deciding it was time for some mead. He slipped inside the 'Seven Stars' the moment the front door creaked open.  
The room Loki walked into was small and crowded, white-washed walls turned yellow with age, the floor boards sticky with dirt and spilled ale. The noise was deafening, people shouting and brawling, others laughing from the top of their lungs, some drunks in one corner singing a song, swaying with the music. He stepped to the side when two large men hauled a drunk outside, throwing him into the stinking mud, closing the door behind him.  
Loki sauntered between the cramped tables, either tipping over glasses randomly or stealing a quick sip of the heady brews when no one was looking. He pinched the ass of a bar-wench, who in turn swung around to slap the man behind her. He unlaced a drunk man's trousers, laughing silently as it slipped down to his ankles, leaving him in dirty underwear and surrounded by his friends roaring with laughter.

Loki settled in a corner with a beer he had pinched from one of the tables, sipping at the bitter brew with small nips. 

All of the sudden he picked up a random word over the commotion “... _Laufey_...”.

The Jötun stilled. 

He craned his neck to detect who had spoken the name of his father, to find out the context of the conversation, but in the tiny room with so many patrons it was almost impossible. He pushed himself off the wall and roamed, eyes sharp and ears open, listening to random snippets of debates all around him. His searching gaze caught a small party of Asgardian soldiers occupying a corner table, and he headed their way. There were five of them, their heads bowing towards each other, each nursing a large beaker of ale.  
Loki stepped up, dancing to the side when a thick dwarf staggered by in the arms of a fat whore, on their way to one of the rooms on the second floor. Loki ignored them and walked close to the soldiers, perking up his ears. 

“ _...called.....are preparing...._ ” Loki huffed, exasperated. The soldier speaking was a tall, blonde woman, her voice raspy. She took a long, thirsty gulp from her dark beer, wiping her lips as she set the pitcher back down with a bang. “ _...reports say that … Malekith.... alliance..._ ” Loki cursed. He could not hear. “ _...Jötunheimr ..._ ”

There. 

Loki felt a cold shiver run up his spine and lodging in his throat.  
They were definitely speaking about the Icen realm.  
About his father. 

He had to know what was going on. 

Loki pressed himself against the wall, leaning in as close as he dared.  
“... are getting battle-ready... to prepare for upcoming war...”

A cold wave of panic rushed through his Frost Giant's veins, and he steadied himself. His ears were ringing, but he forced himself to listen over the white noise that washed through him.

The soldier who spoke next was older, red-faced, swaying on the bench. “I for one can't wait to sink my sword into the cold chests ... blue bastards! Peace has lasted ….for my taste.” The old man finished his ale in one long draught, the honeyed liquid spilling down the sides of his mouth, soaking his beard and front of his tunic. “They think they can provoke Asgard with their war-mongering? Laufey will have something else coming for him.” The old soldier stood, eyes gleaming over his gray beard. “I am going to fuck a red-haired whore tonight, for if the Gods allow it, in less than four months I am riding to Valhalla!”

The drunken soldiers bellowed with laughter.

Loki straightened, face burning.  
He felt sick to his stomach.  
Someone jostled into him, but he was too preoccupied to notice.

Jötunheimr was preparing for war.  
And Odin knew about it.  
The Allfather was calling in his troops, preparing them for an impending attack. 

Less than four months.

Loki rubbed a cool hand over his too-hot face.  
He had to warn his father.

Later he would not be able to recall how he made his way back to his room, stumbling over his own feet, running into peasants that could not see him.  
Once Loki stopped to be sick against a dark stone wall. 

He was going home.


	16. Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIT IS HAPPENING! Hold on to your horses, here we go.
> 
> As my amazing-beta-reader uluka is on holiday, the next couple of chapters are not betad. 
> 
> Yeah.  
> Feedback / comments and kudos are super sexy, and you know it *blinks at you lasciviously*. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Jötunheimr

 

Crossing into Jötunheimr over secret borders was hard work, even for a well-trained, powerful Mage. It turned out that the magical pull through some of the oldest, rawest parts of space was a painful one. 

When Loki arrived, the moment the dry icy air of his realm hit him, he doubled over, his skin ashen as he shivered violently, cold sweat streaming down his face. Once the pain, caused by the vast emptiness of space trying to pull his bones through his skin had subsided, Loki forced himself to stand tall.

He had made it.  
This was his land.  
He was home. 

Finally.

A rush swept through his body, a cold heat that burned in his chest, spreading through his limbs. 

Loki squinted as snow was blown into his face, and he realized that he had landed in one of the dark winter storms, tugging at his open hair, lashing it through the air. He sank down to fasten his wide, open trousers so that they would not be ripped apart in the wind, and then he straightened, orienting himself with his magic. 

Finally he started the long march to the remnants of his father's castle inside the capital. 

x

Loki kept himself hidden using seiðr, realizing how twisted and _hollow_ the realm's magic was after experiencing the healthy, pulsating force of Asgard.  
It set his teeth on edge, and he had to supplement it with the forces of the galaxy to keep his invisibility upright, to be able to sneak up to the castle unhindered. 

Once he was within the sight of the main doors, he melted out of the shadows and walked through the empty hallways all the way to the throne room. He kept his head held high and ignored the stares of the two guards that lined the entrance. Form afar he saw his father sitting on the shattered throne. He continued walking, knowing that the Warriors could tell who he was by simply reading it on his skin. Still, their mouths were open and their eyes slitted, and another scent rose.

Lust.

Well.

Loki had omitted thinking about what it would be like, arriving back home as a full-grown Ergi. After all, he was a child no more. No. He was old enough to to be subjugated and bred by any Alpha who could claim him.  
And they _all_ would be able to best him in a fight.  
Each and every one of them. 

However, the impending Asgardian attack had been weighing heavily on this mind. 

Maybe too heavily.

Loki swallowed and forced himself not to walk any faster. 

He sincerely hoped that the Warrior's respect of their king would keep them from fighting and mating him right here and now, and that Laufey was too deep within planning a war to allow anyone to ergi his son.

He really, _really_ wished that would hold true.  
And that he had not just made a really stupid mistake by coming home. 

Loki stepped inside the throne room, the king deep in conversation with two of what seemed to be his generals, enormous Warriors standing more than four meters tall. The other Frost Giants turned when they noted him approaching, and the discussion died down, red eyes first puzzled and then gleaming.

Laufey threw an impatient glance his way, and suddenly stilled, his eyes narrowing. Loki could hear a low growl coming from the king, felt it reverberate all the way to his bones, flush him with misery and animosity at the same time. Of course he had known his father would not welcome him with open arms … but maybe somewhere, deep in his heart he had hoped ...

“What are you doing here?” Laufey spat out, mouth pulled into a snarl. His hands were curling around the armrests of his large throne, and he leaned back, glowering down upon his youngest son.

Loki hesitated, waiting for the king to dismiss the others, to talk to him in private, but he did not, and it was not Loki's place to ask for it.  
That much he knew.  
He stepped up, fully aware of he Warriors staring down at him, grinning lecherously.

Loki cleared his throat, head held high, belying his unease. “Father, I have heard the most distressing news in Asgard. Odin is aware of the Jötun preparation for war. I overheard some of his soldiers discuss it, and if true they will strike in about four month's time, but it may be less. I came home to tell you of his imminent attack.”

Laufey showed no surprise at the statement, but his mouth thinned and his eyes shone unreadable, hard. His voice was grating as he answered. “I see. Then war will be upon us sooner than we anticipated, but it is of no matter.”

Laufey turned towards the two largest Jötnar standing closest to him. “Aurboða, Vafþrúðnir. Call in the generals, there is no time to be lost. We shall meet in the war rooms in about an hour.” They nodded, stepped back. “Thrasir, spread the word that all able Warriors are to be ready for battle in a fortnight. Everyone is to come to the castle-grounds by the high noons.” His gaze fell back down upon his youngest son, and Loki could see the hatred flash within them once more. “Let it be known that the Warrior that brings me the Allfather's or his Golden Son's head will earn the right to lay claim to my Ergi son. Let it be known to all the Alphas.”

Loki stiffened, felt the air in the room change as the Warriors shuffled closer, invading his space. He swallowed down the taste of fear that flooded his mouth, and blinked.

Laufey indicated the meeting to be over.  
“Leave us. I will speak to the Ergi in private.” 

Loki swallowed hard, waiting with his eyes glued to the ground as the Warriors emptied out around him. The doors to the throne room ground closed, and he was alone with his father, the king.

Laufey stood and stepped towards his youngest son, his red eyes glowered menacingly.  
“How did you get into Jötunheimr?”

Loki stilled, panic curling in his stomach.  
Oh.  
Of course his father would realize that Odin did not send him back without informing the Icen king. Especially not in war times.  
Laufey knew that there was only one way for Loki to have crossed the realms.

The prince twisted his fingers against each other, cold sweat breaking out all over his skin. He opened his mouth to answer, closed it again, eyes glued to the floor. Scenes of himself bound in the dungeons for months as a child, beaten with an icen whip for using his seiðr flashed through his mind, and back then he had just _played_.  
Loki stilled, breath shallow. He did not answer. 

Laufey stopped, too close, towering threateningly above him.  
“How?” His voice was a harsh snarl.

Loki decided to lie.  
“I had help, a friend of mine... he used his magic and...”

Laufey backhanded him hard enough that his head flew to the side, split his lip. Loki cowered, paralyzed with fear.

How could he have forgotten...

“Don't lie to me.” Laufey was very close. Loki could see his hands fisting by his sides and he cowered lower, the sting of the slap biting into his skin.  
“Speak!”

“Please, father...” The second slap was just as harsh, and Loki groaned at the impact.

Laufey's voice was as cold as ice, and he leaned in, furious. “I can have you taken to the dungeons and tortured if that is what it takes for you to speak. And I am losing my patience. There is a war I am preparing for.”

Loki took a deep breath, and another. He realized that his father knew how he had done it, but he wanted him to say it.  
To admit that he used his seiðr.  
Laufey raised his arm again and Loki ducked down, voice a low gasp.

“Magic. I used... a spell I read about, in case it would come to this. I learned it for an emergency. Please, father.”

A heavy fist connected brutally with the side of his head, swung with full force, and Loki yelped as he went down to the floor, landing painfully on his side. Stars, no, whole galaxies were blooming in front of his eyes at the impact, and he heaved in panic as he made out the distinct sound of an ice-dagger forming.  
Loki was convinced that his father would kill him on the spot for going against his commands, for daring to use Olden Magic.

He waited for a long minute, panting with fear, drops of black blood dripping to the floor underneath him from his lips that now ached sharply. He wondered if some of his teeth had come loose, realizing it might not make a difference.

Laufey made a dismissive sound above him and threw the ice dagger to the floor next to his son, who was curled into himself, shivering. Loki raised his gaze to stare at the sharp weapon, knowing how close he had come to feeling his father's wrath.

Laufey's voice was stony and flat when he spoke. “The next time you dare to use seiðr I will have you publicly executed for treason. Do not test me on this.”

Loki shook his head, more blood splattering on the floor. His mouth felt numb, swollen.  
“I... apologize. It will not happen again.”

Laufey snarled at him. “Go to your rooms. You are not wanted here.”

Loki nodded, pushing himself to his knees and from there to his feet, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. He indicated a small bow towards his father who was still staring down at him, and turned, focused on placing one foot in front of the other. The left side of his face was a throbbing mass of pain, his eye slowly swelling shut. 

He pushed the thick ice doors open and stepped outside, his eyes never leaving the floor to avoid the leering grin and sparkling eyes of the guards outside.

One of them let out a grating laugh. “Welcome home, Loki-prince.”

Welcome home indeed.

 

Asgard

“The runt of Jötunheimr is gone.”

“What?” Thor blinked, once, twice. When his father had called him to his throne room, he had expected many things, perhaps to be scolded for going on another hunt without announcing it, or missing a couple of council meeting.

But not this.

Loki was gone?

Odin studied his son with an even facial expression, not betraying his emotions. His voice was cool. “The tutors noted his absence four days ago. He has taken all of his essentials and apparently left in a hurry. Heimdall has confirmed that he is back in the Jötunheimr.”

Thor was dumbstruck. “But... how?”

Odin knocked Gungnir onto the floor, single eye flashing. “We know that his seiðr is strong, there was never any doubt about that. But I care less about the how than about the why.” He stared at Thor, unblinking. “Is there any reason you can think of why the Laufeyson has deemed it necessary to leave the capital in such a hurry?”

Thor was shocked, his thoughts sluggish, moving like ice on a frozen river.  
He had taken Loki for a few more short rides, and had started introducing the Frost Giant to the Midgardian game of chess, enjoying battling Loki and his quick mind and sharp tongue.  
Of course they had squabbled, and Thor had overstepped a boundary or two without realizing it, but had there been anything that would warrant Loki to abandon Asgard?

No....  
Not really.

Thor swallowed hard. “I... no. Nothing I would know about.”

Odin stared at him for a moment longer with a hard look, then took a deep breath. He stood.  
“We have to consider the notion that Loki has found out about the upcoming war with Jötunheimr and Svartálfheimr.”

“Upcoming war?” Thor was dumbstruck, again.

“It has been kept under seal, for I have been waiting for a confirmation from our informants. You would know if you would take attending our meetings more seriously.” Odin sighed. “Laufey has rallied his troops, and they have been gathering at the capital for more than a month now. There are over five thousand Jötun Warriors ready for battle. If our informants are correct, Malekith has approached Laufey with the scheme to unite their forces against Asgard. The Dark Elves have a substantial fleet of battle-ready ships. Laufey has an army. Together they mean to attack us, right here.” Odin shook his head. “It is of no matter now. Loki leaving in a hurry means he might have found out about our suspicions, and has taken them back to Jötunheimr. Laufey is warned, and will let Malekith know.”

Odin walked down the steps to his throne, making his way to a large table littered with scrolls. Thor followed him, mind racing. “This forces our hand.” The Allfather sighed, hand wandering over the parchments. “We attack in two month's time.”

Thor stared at his father.

Loki was gone.  
And now there was to be war, a war against the Icen realm.

Odin found the scroll he had been looking for and handed it to Thor. His voice was hard. “I have decided that we will make an example of Laufey-king. Of Jötunheimr.”

Thor swallowed, hard, taking the offered sheet from his fathers hand. He opened it slowly.  
It was a written order. 

“Less than a millennium ago, Laufey lost one of the grandest wars of our time against me, and now he is looking to bring the fight here, to Asgard. This immense show of disrespect will not be tolerated.” Odin stared at his son. “We will take the sacred stone Hǫrgrblóð to war, and shall answer in kind.”

Thor read the curly letters on the parchment and raised his eyes in disbelief.  
“But... but that would mean to...”

No. That was not possible.

“Yes.” Odin interrupted him with a curt nod. “The life of the royal family, all noblemen and high-ranking generals of Jötunheimr is forfeit the moment we step into war. They shall be sacrificed to the stone, their blood paying the debt of their insult. A monster without a head will not stand and continue to fight. And the second head will think twice about kindling the wrath of Asgard.”

Thor swallowed, hard. He could not stop staring at the parchment. “But father...”

“ENOUGH!” Odin's voice boomed through the room. “You are never here when hard decisions have to be made, and this one is final. It has been discussed with the counsel of the elders. Bringing the stone and using it as in Olden days will set an example to all the realms not to encourage a war against Asgard they cannot hope to win. They have stopped fearing us? Well, we shall remind them of why they used to.”

The Allfather walked away, leaning heavily on Gungnir. Thor followed, still clutching the written order to sacrifice the royal family of Jötunheimr.  
Laufey-king. Helblindi-prince. Býleistr-prince.

Loki-prince...

Thor felt like he should say something, fight against the decision his father had made in his absence, but his mind was blank. He blinked as Odin continued talking.  
“Later today we discuss the number of soldiers and war strategies we will need against Jötunheimr and Svartálfheimr. I expect you to be present.” The Allfather turned, looking up at his son. “I want you to prepare numbers, generals you would like to work with, strategies and necessary equipment. Anything you can think of. In two moon's time we will attack, and I want us to be prepared.”

Odin gave another curt nod and turned back to the large table, studying the maps and papers littered all across. 

Thor realized he was dismissed. 

He left, holding the parchment in his hand so tightly that he realized too late that he had crumbled it.  
All he could think about was – How in all the realms was he going to save Loki?


	17. War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, now we get into the land of warnings. I am going to update them for each chapter whenever I post them. . 
> 
> Warnings: sexual assault, angst, description of war and therefore blood and death.
> 
> Also general warning for grammar and spelling mistakes, cause my beta is on holiday. Oh well. I hope you can squint and deal with it.  
> I wish I could answer your comments, but for some reason A03 has been acting up for me, and I have troubles uploading/ answering / even opening other fanfiction, and IT IS DRIVING ME CRAZY! So thanks for the comments, and I am not ignoring you, but I am currently not meant to answer. Comments and kudos still mean he world to me. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

By the time Loki made it back to his room, panic was bubbling in his chest, forcing his breath out of him in labored heaves. He took a long look around the tiny, dark chamber he used to inhabit as a child, taking in the empty walls, crooked shelf and sunken mattress in the corner that now was much too small for him.  
Loki slowly sunk down onto the floor, his back to the blackened ice wall, placing his aching head between his knees.

He was home.  
Just like he always wanted.

What in all the realms had he been thinking?

With all the Alpha's hovering around, and him now being an almost-mature Ergi....  
May the Gods help him. 

Loki fought to keep down the terror that scratched at his inside like a wild beast.  
He took a deep, grounding breath. And another. 

After all, did he really have a choice, coming back? Coming home?

Laufey was preparing for war, maybe had been for a while, and Odin would have had to act on the threat sooner or later.  
If Loki had stayed in Asgard, well ... a peace-hostage was to ensure _peace_ between the realms. His worth would have dropped dramatically once war had broken out.  
The Icen prince would have been a prisoner faster than he would have been able to call Thor an oaf.  
And, unfortunately, the Allfather would have found that Loki was not a very valuable prisoner at that, for he was fairly certain that Laufey-king would have not given in to any demands for his release. 

Nope.  
Not likely. 

His life, as he had known it, with nice rooms, good food, unlimited access to the library and free lessons on how to manage his seiðr and how to fight with a sword, would have been over.  
Because prisoners of war were not housed like guests.  
And they did not ride out and kiss the sons of their captors.  
No.  
They did not. 

A thin, sharp pain penetrated Loki's chest and he gasped out a low moan.

Thor. 

He was going to miss that idiot. 

What a stupid notion. 

Loki pressed his palms against his eyes, concentrating on the pain that radiated from his swollen cheek and split lip. 

He was back home.  
Where he belonged. 

He took a long look around his tiny, bare room, recollecting the way the Warriors had stared at him. He had been able to smell their lust, how they had sneered down at him, disgusting promises sparkling in red eyes.

Loki shivered.

It had been the right decision to come home and warn his father.  
Loki slotted his head between his knees once more.  
   
Now he just had to convince himself that this was true. 

 

x

 

Loki stayed in his rooms for the next couple of weeks, only leaving when hunger forced him to go foraging for food. He soon hated these experiences, even more than he had when he was a child, if that was even possible.  
The Warriors he met in the corridors stared at him, catcalled, sometimes even touched, and their callousness and crudity disgusted Loki.  
It also scared him, just a little.  
Though he would never admit it. 

One day one of his father's generals followed Loki as he made his way back to his rooms. The young prince realized someone was behind him when he left a more populated area, a heavy, insistent step close on his heels. Loki tried to walk faster, hurrying through the corridors, mouth dry, heart pounding.  
He turned a corner, and another, and then he felt a cold, meaty hand land on his shoulder, turn him around and press him against a stone wall in one fast motion. Loki struggled uselessly, terror closing his throat, knowing that the Warrior was not _allowed_ to take him, would not _dare_ but ...what if....

What if? 

The Giant sneered down at him with a glittering, toothy grin, and then he pulled his cock from his loincloth. He grabbed Loki harder, digging his fingers into the struggling runt's bony shoulders and started fisting his own erection.  
His voice was a hoarse whisper, like breaking ice. “Take a good look at my cock, Ergi. The next time you see it I will bury it in your cunt until you scream for mercy!” Loki seized his futile struggles and squeezed his eyes shut as the Warrior panted above him, crouching over him, caging him.  
The impulse to use his magic and disappear, to burn the large hand off him or even flee was overwhelming, but he knew that if he was found using seiðr... in these rooms... in the castle of his own father...  
Well.  
There would be nothing in the world that would save him from a very painful death. 

Laufey-king would make sure of that. 

So Loki remained still, disgusted and outraged, and he flinched hard when the ice-cold splatter of cum hit him, painting wetly over his face and stomach.  
He was let go, the Warrior tugging himself back into his loincloth, grinning down at him.  
Loki held back the snarl that was threatening to spill from his lips.  
Above all things that had happened he was not going to get beaten for showing insolence to a general, an Alpha Warrior and his superior.

Loki walked away, head held high, fisting his hands in mute anger at his sides.

The hollow laughter followed him all the way to his rooms. 

 

After that incident Loki left his room only once a day, hoping the event would not repeat itself.

It was a small mercy that it did not. 

The Jötnar had something more important on their minds than pushing around the Ergi-prince of the house Laufey. 

War was coming.

And they waited for Odin to attack.

 

But Odin never came.

No. 

In his stead he sent his son, Thor.

 

 

It was early in the afternoon, just days after the high noons, when the War Horns sounded.  
The drawn-out, hollow tone echoed between the walls of the Icen castle of the capital, carried for miles and miles.  
Every Jötnar knew what it meant.  
Most remembered from the thousand-year war. 

It was the sound warning of an impending attack.

 

Asgard's army had set foot into Jötunheimr.

 

Loki had been sitting in his rooms, staring listlessly at the blank walls, when the dark sound reverberated throughout the castle, drawing him to his feet.  
His mouth was dry and Loki stood still, swallowing down the hard clump of dread blocking his throat. This was it. He pulled on a pair of thick, slender pants, grabbed some treasured, well-balanced throwing knives he been gifted, and left his room.  
Loki made his way down into the courtyard, knowing that the generals of the vast army of the Icen Warriors would accumulating there to wait for further instructions. He slipped into the crowded square, watching mesmerized as the frenzy of an impending war spread all around him. Enormous Warriors ran over the ice, shouting orders, distributing torches, growing icen weapons from their empty fists, swords, clubs, mazes. Fast runners were passed commands to deliver to the troops stationed outside the capital, strategies were discussed and shouted over the crowd.

The energy was crackling, and above everything was the lust for death, like a heavy, heady cloud, making Loki's heart beat a fast tattoo. He stayed close to the wall, wishing he could use his seiðr to melt into the shadows the way he used to.

He watched the commotion, frozen into place, when a heavy hand twirled him around, shoving him against the dark wall behind him. Loki panicked for a second, but when he raised his head, he was relieved to see his brother, Býleistr glowering down at him.  
The elder Jötun was staring at Loki, resentment clearly painted in his face. “What are you doing here, Ergi? Do you wish to bring bad luck upon the Alphas by your mere presence?” He grabbed his smaller brother by the back of his neck and pulled him across the ice towards the side-door that led back into the castle. “Get out before father sees you and has you whipped!”

Loki struggled against the rough grip, eyes sparkling. “I have been taught how to fight, I want to lend my hand.“ There was a time and place to be meek and subordinate, but Loki believed that war was not one of those times.  
And he could fight.  
He had been able to best Thor, after all...

A tall Warrior was walking by, looking over his shoulder at them, grinning. “You can lend me a hand for my cock, Ergi!” The Warriors around them were bellowing laughter.

Loki tried to ignore the bantering, but he could not keep himself from flushing a dark, brilliant blue.

Býleistr slapped him, hard. His brother's voice was no less than a growl. “The day that that the great Laufey-king will allow a lowly Ergi to fight for our cause will be the day that Jötunheimr falls. You are lucky he is not here to hear this. Go back to your room and stay out of our way.”

His brother gave him a hard shove that sent him sprawling. Loki took a moment to collect himself before he slowly got back to his feet, shivering with anger. He grit his teeth and lowered his head, not wanting to speak what was on his mind.

It was not his place to respond.

So he did as he was told, and it burned like a fire inside of him. 

 

There was no way Loki would wait out the end of the war in his rooms, that much was sure. 

It did not take long for the youngest of the Icen princes to make that decision, and he took the stairs up into one of the highest towers of the capital, taking two steps at a time. Once on the top he pushed open the door to the outside, pressing his shoulder against the onslaught of the elements. The strong Icen wind was whipping his hair about and forcefully pulled at his pants, trying to drag him off the roof with its enormous power. Loki ducked his head and grew a sturdy icen rope to anchor himself to the floor. It took him a moment to find his footing, and then he looked up, the strong wind forcing tears to his eyes. 

From this point of great heights he had a good view over the two armies below, facing each other on opposite ends on the vast Icen fields in front of Laufey-king's castle.  
On his left were thousands upon thousands of Jötnar Warriors, their blue body and pearly horns clearly visible, like dark shadows on the white snow. They stood tall, howling fierce battle-cries, lowering their sharp horns in mock attacks. It was a show of pure strength and power, and it was clear that Laufey's army, after months of training and years of reluctant peace, hungered for battle. 

On Loki's right was the golden army of Asgard. The troops stood silently in close formation, their red capes rippling in the winds like many thousand flags. There was a fairly large group of Berserkers to the side, broad men and women holding heavy axes, dark gray wolf-pelts thrown over their shoulder to signify their status. They were drumming the wooden handles of their weapons against their shields in a fast rhythm, howling like maddened dogs into the sky. If any of the rumors Loki had heard were true, they were death-defying when in battle. 

All together the numbers of the Asgardian soldiers that Loki could make out was much smaller than that of Laufey's Warriors.  
It made Loki extremely uneasy.  
Odin and his son were nothing but able strategists, and it made it clear to him that they believed in a quick and easy victory

 

And then Loki saw Thor. 

 

The Odinson, mounted on his enormous white war steed, rode straight through the middle of his vast army, the close-knit formation parting in front of him. The horse, so very familiar to Loki, was wearing a golden battle-armor of its own, and even from afar the Icen prince felt like he could see the cold determination that burned in the Thunderers eyes. 

It made him shiver. 

Thor lifted his hammer, lightening crackling across the sky, and Loki could hear his battle cry all the way up to the roof.  
**“For Odin! for Asgard!”**  
Thousands of voices echoed the cry in perfect synchrony. 

And the battle begun. 

Loki had never been in a war before, but for all the stories he had read and pictures he had seen, nothing prepared him for the real life carnage that it brought along.  
He watched, equally fascinated and horrified, as the armies got into motion, flowing towards each other, blue on one side, golden on the other, like two enormous, slow beasts. When they met it was with a sickening crunch that Loki could hear all the way above the castle of his father. Within moments red and black blood soaked the icy ground, and Loki could hear the first, faint screams of torment over the battle-cries of the Warriors and the Berserkers. 

Within a few minutes the floor was littered with corpses. 

Loki watched with something of a sick fascination, not able to turn his gaze away from the bloodshed. Above everything was the golden orb of Mjølner, painting deadly circles in the sky. The young Icen prince held on to the wall, staring at the battle as it washed back and forth between the two armies, until the night swallowed them and cloaked them in darkness. 

Slowly Loki peeled himself off the floor and found his way back down from the roof, returning to his dark and empty room where he lay in his bed, listening to the sounds of slaughter pouring in through his window. 

It was a very long night with very little sleep. 

x

From that day forth, Loki climbed the stairs to the tower every day, as soon as the suns started to illuminate the gray sky. He sat down and watched the daily massacre of Asgardians and Jötnar, becoming increasingly numb to the amount of death that was laid out before him. 

After about one month, Loki realized that Asgard was gaining the upper hand.

The golden soldiers were far more disciplined than their Jötun counterparts, and they fought in small, highly organized units that struck with force and withdrew quickly. There seemed to be an endless supply of fresh, well-rested Asgardians longing for battle. In comparison, the Berserkers were brutal in their combat, savage assaults enabling them to take down a single Alpha Warrior when faced with them alone. And while they were less controlled in their formation and movements, they made up for it with the ferociousness of their attacks. 

And among all of them was Thor, riding in and out of battles, sending Mjølner out like a messenger of Death, paving his way through whole hordes of Frost Giants. He was glorious in his anger, his blood-lust turning him into a grand, Golden God of Vengeance, as he split the sky open with silver lightening.

It horrified Loki. For while Thor was amazing in his ferociousness, he was, after all, the enemy. 

And the Jötnar were loosing.

Laufey-king had sent all of his Warriors into the battles as of the beginning of the war, and after weeks and months they tired, clearly showing the strain. Their attacks were slower than they had been in the beginning, their swords swung with a little less force, and even though the change was miniscule, it was there. 

Day after day more Asgardian forces flooded into the Icen Realms, hitting the Frost Giants with wave after wave of golden soldiers. At one point Loki could make out that for every golden corpse in the snow, five Jötnar left their life in turn. 

He felt like screaming.

Loki realized that Thor's strategy was to tire out his enemy while keeping his own soldiers fresh. The Thunderer knew that Alpha Jötnar put little thought into their formations, for the Ancient Ways of War strategy had been kept by Mages for milennia. And, as Odin and his son well knew, the Mage's caste was no more. Now the Frost Giants fought as single entities instead of a unity, just focusing on attacking and killing. 

And there was nothing Loki could do. 

He tried to speak to his father, to suggest some improvements that might work against the Asgardians, but when he saw the murderous expression on the king's face, he had turned and fled.  
There was little he would be able to do from the dungeons, beaten to a bloody pulp.

But, unfortunately, there was just as little he could do watching from the rooftop.

The battles raged on, and the cries of the Jötnar became more desperate. 

x

It was roughly two months later that, early one afternoon, all of the Asgardian soldiers fell back and fled their opponents.  
Loki had been leaning back against the cold wall behind him, watching the battles day in, day out. Now he stood, scanning the grounds, searching for reasons for the hasty retreat. 

There was none. 

Loki stood helplessly and watched as the Jötnar chased behind the seemingly escaping soldiers, over plains sodden with blood, thinning and stretching their own troops out.

When the counter-attack happened it was not only from the front but from both sides as well. 

All of the sudden Asgardian Archers appeared, shooting arrows at the charging Warriors, considerably thinning out their numbers. Berserkers materialized from under the snow, flanking the attack from both sides, attacking viciously. The soldiers that had fled stopped and turned, backed by a new battalion that had, all of the sudden, materialized behind them. Thor brought down his whole army in one go, and Loki watched in mounting horror as Jötun after Jötun fell under the arrows and swords, black blood spilling onto white snow.

It was too much for the weakened forces of the Frost Giants. 

Many of the Warriors stood and fought, but many hundreds realized that they could not counter the attack, and they turned and fled towards the castle. 

The battle was lost. 

Loki felt numb. It took him a little time to rip his eyes of the carnage beneath him, cold dread gnawing at this stomach. He stood on shaky legs, and with trembling fingers opened the door back into the tower. He made his way down the stairs, running all the way to the courtyard where Warriors were streaming from the battle, their red eyes ripped open, reeking of fear.

Loki pressed himself between the large bodies, searching for one of his brothers or his father, but he could not find them. There was nothing but chaos all around him, and Loki made a swift decision, melting into the shadows.  
“We have to close the gates! Enforce the castle!” His voice carried well over the heads of the Warriors, many heads snapped around, looking for the speaker, but they could not make him out, did not see him.  
But his suggestion was repeated, soon shouted from many blue throats, and Loki reappeared, watching grimly as ten large Alphas pushed the enormous gates to the capital closed.  
Once they were barred, Loki stood at the back, growing a couple of ice-daggers he slipped into his belt, as well as a light, slim sword that lay well in his hand. 

A loud, familiar voice boomed over the wall. 

“Are all Jotuns cowards that hide from danger the way a child would cling to its mother's teat? Come out! Fight us!” 

It was Thor. 

Of course it was. 

Loki lowered his head, grabbing his sword tighter when the first, distinctive sounds of battering rams crashing against the gate echoed over their heads. 

And while the Alphas noted the Ergi in the middle, not one complained or sent him away when the walls started to crumble. 

They needed all the help they could get. 

The first hundred Asgardians fell as they squeezed themselves through the small crack that had been opened, slaughtered by the Jötnar standing to defend their castle. More and more pressed through the bottleneck, additional rams weakening the walls, and soon two or three, and then four or five Asgardians and Berserkers breached the icen castle side by side. It was like a flood of gold and red that could not be stopped, and within moments Loki found himself in midst of the battle, combats flaring up around him.  
He threw his knives in quick succession and twice went against Adgardian soldiers, his skills with the sword enabling him to slay them quickly.  
When a Berserker swung his ax at him, the sheer force of the blow sent Loki sprawling to his knees, and he had to send a bolt of magic against the oncoming enemy, burning ice-cold holes into his warm flesh. The man sputtered and died, eyes widened in disbelief as bright red blood bubbled from his chest. 

Loki did not waste a breath, pushing himself to his feet, growing another dagger from his hand.  
He turned as he heard a familiar whistling sound of Mjølner behind him, and had no time to react as she struck him straight in the chest. Loki fell to his knees, clawing at his flesh where he had been hit, heaving for breath that did not come, pain shooting through him. He looked up to see Thor staring at him from on top a Jötun corpse, catching the hammer that flew straight back into his fist.  
Loki tried to form words, and then his vision turned into an inky black tunnel that he fell into, pulling him under. 

And then he knew no more.


	18. Blood Altar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahm.....hello there. *peeks out from behind a wall*
> 
> This chapter is where the not-so-happy part of the story begins. And that is kind of an understatement. I did mention in the beginning that this relationship will not only rainbows and kisses, right? Now, if you ever read any of my other fics you might know that I don't do fluff very well. I mean, we will get there eventually, but boy howdy is that a long way off. And by the Gods, does Thor fuck up majorly along the way.
> 
> Yeah?  
> Yeah.
> 
> Please note the updated tags. Warnings for this chapter (where do I start?) - Minor Character Death(s), Rape, non-con, violence, loads of blood, Asgardian justice, bloodlust, Angst, Thor being a total dick (that totally should be a warning, right?)  
> If any of that squicks you, please skip this chapter. 
> 
> Also, this is not betad, so please forgive me for any mistakes you find. My beta should be back from her holiday next week (I hope).
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> x

From the book: Asgard and its Realms  
By Eir Lyfjaberg  
Outtakes from chapter 3, Asgard, war and its rituals.

_Blood Lust – to submit to a trance-like, uncontrollable fury that leads to the strong urge to kill; to 'hamask', which means 'to change form' and 'enter into the stage of wild frenzy'. For a true Norse Warrior the blood-lust can last between hours and days after the end of a battle._

 

Loki

The first time Loki's mind battled back to the surface out of the sticky, black pool of unconsciousness, he was dragged over a battlefield. His arms were held in an awkward angle by two soldiers, feet stuttering over ice and rocks, catching at bodies and discarded weapons.  
His head was swimming.  
He felt nauseous.  
In his dazed state he called for his magic to will himself to disappear, to escape the strong grip he was caught in. To his surprise, his seiðr slipped away under his fingers like a fish in murky waters, and he could not reach out to the magic surrounding him. Loki choked at the feeling and then coughed, a sharp pain lacing through his chest. His consciousness slipped away once more, and he fell into the black well of oblivion. 

 

The next time Loki woke he was lying on his side on icy grounds, hands bound in front of his stomach. He blinked his eyes open, nausea washing over him, and for a couple of minutes he simply struggled to control his rolling stomach.  
His head hurt, a low, insistent pounding right behind his eyes.  
When he managed to finally look up, Loki realized several things at once. 

First, he was still in Jötunheimr. The icen ground beneath him was dirty, but it was the usual blue-gray color characteristic of his realm, radiating coolness. The air was freezing, and even though he had been brought into some sort of confinement, enclosed by a wall of what seemed to be thick textile, the view was open to the sky. Snow was falling onto them unhindered. 

Second: He was surrounded by bound Jötun Warriors. As far as his eyes could reach, there were Alphas restrained with heavy metal chains that were connected and secured in the floor at certain distances. Which made him, the Icen prince, the exact same as the common foot soldier.  
A prisoner of Asgard.

Third, the war was lost.  
This was clear to Loki. He had been in the last battalion standing against Thor's army, and even if somehow there was still combat out there somewhere, it was only a matter of time for Asgard to crush all resistance. 

Loki suppressed a groan as he shifted.  
His whole body hurt.  
He blinked his eyes open and, staring at the floor, tried once again to access his magic.  
It did not work. 

Panic washed over him, blackening his vision.  
He reached deeper inside himself, calling for his seiðr, but while he could still feel it, it eluded him, just outside his consciousness. Loki started to heave, he pressed his eyes closed and tried even harder, but it felt as if his seiðr, that had always meshed with his innermost core, his very _soul_ , had been separated from the tapestry of his being, the threads floating just out of reach.  
He felt like he had been amputated a limb, like something essential had been removed from him.

There was a deep, hollow space webbing throughout his being, and it hurt. 

Loki felt his chest constrict as panic seeped into his core, and he started to struggle. Terror whitened his vision, forcing his breath out of his lungs in short, shallow gasps.  
He had to get away.  
They had managed to _break_ him.  
Take his seiðr from him.

Loki bucked against his restraints until he ran out of energy. 

The golden cuffs that were binding his hands were linked tightly to the chain circling his waist, immobilizing him efficiently. He could do nothing but shuffle slightly to the side before he was stopped, his restrains linked to the large, heavy chain running among the prisoners, binding them all together. If the chain was strong enough to hold a full-grown Alpha Jötun, it would hold a runt. 

Loki stilled, pressing his aching head into the dirty, cool ground beneath him.

He felt something heavy shift around his throat, pulling slightly at the thin metal that was connected to his bound hands.  
Loki realized that he was wearing a collar.  
He opened his eyes and curled into himself, trying to touch the thick torque that was running around his neck, but his hands were bound too tightly to his stomach, and he could not reach it.  
However, the discovery supported his suspicion that he had been immobilized by a Dwarfen Magic, ancient sorcery confined in a device to bind and subdue his seiðr.  
Loki had once read in ancient scrolls about such a contraption, but he had not realized that Asgard has access to such items. Dwarfen collars were considered to be cruel, for separating a Mage from his seiðr, part of his innermost core, was a punishment that could pass as torture. 

Loki heaved again, and this time spat out a small amount of bile. 

He felt...empty.  
It was an horrifying sensation. 

Loki took a couple of deep, grounding breaths.  
It would not do to let the panic take over his mind.  
Not when he needed to _think_.  
He ground his teeth and lifted his head once more. 

His eyes roamed along his fellow prisoners, trying to come up with a plan of action, when a commotion at the entrance to the enclosure distracted him.  
Loki turned slightly and noticed two soldiers walking between the imprisoned Jötnar, clearly searching for someone. He cowered, but it was too late. One of the Asgardians had spotted him, stopping the other with a hand to his chest, pointing at Loki. “There he is! That's the third prince.”  
They were upon him in mere moments.  
Loki snarled and spat as he was pressed down into the ground, one of the Asgardians unhooking his restraints from the large chain. With a sharp tug they forced him to his feet, and then the two soldiers curled hard hands around his upper arms and pulled him along. Loki stumbled, pain shooting through his chest as he tried to get his feet working underneath him.  
He was dragged out out of the make-shift prison enclosure, and Loki could see that the Asgardians had built a whole city of tents just outside the Icen castle. He had no time to study his surroundings, for he was already pulled towards the largest of the buildings, placed upon a shallow hill. Loki struggled, digging his feet into the ground as he was dragged towards it, but his weakened resistance meant nothing to the two strong soldiers who simply continued on their way.  
When they reached the tent, the guards securing the entrance scanned them quickly, one pulling his mouth into a sly smile, before a thick drape was pushed aside. 

Loki received a sharp shove that sent him sprawling to his knees inside the tent.  
It intensified his pounding headache, and he took a moment to collect himself before he raised his head. 

The first thing Loki saw was his father, the mighty Laufey-king and his brother Býleistr, both kneeling on the ground, bound in heavy chains. They were surrounded by four soldiers, who had their swords trained upon them. Loki was hauled to his feet and dragged the rest of the way towards his family, where he was dropped without hesitation.  
Neither of the Jötnar turned to acknowledge him, their focus directed towards the middle of the tent. 

Loki followed their gaze.  
The inside of the spacious room was surprisingly bare, empty save for four large burning braziers in each corner and a large, hip-high altar set right in the middle. The large, heavy stone was a deep black so dark it seemed to absorb all the light around it. It's surface was cracked with red streaks, webbing the whole exterior like lightening, pulsating in the firelight. The sides of the stone were intricately carved with foreign symbols, a few which Loki recognized, many which he had never seen before. All of them them shone in the color of Asgardian blood, a deep, dark red. Even though Loki's seiðr was bound, he could feel the magic radiating of the artifact. 

The object was surrounded by more than twenty Asgardians, all staring intently at an enormous Jötun who was on his knees in front of the stone. The Warrior was held down with heavy hands on his back and horns, forcing him into position.  
The stone shone black with blood viciously dripping down onto the white floor, painting rivulets along the ice. Loki could not suppress a choked sound when a large Berserker stepped up to the snarling Jötun, raised his ax and brought it down upon his neck with all his might. There was a wet thud of metal hitting flesh, a pained groan from the Alpha, and then the ax was brought down a second time, beheading the kneeling Frost Giant. 

Loki froze in horror as the head slowly rolled off the altar, hitting the floor with a loud thump. He cringed away at the sightless gaze that turned towards him, empty red eyes ripped open.  
It was the Alpha that had assaulted him some months ago, ejaculated upon him in some dark hallway.  
'So I guess I am not going to scream on that ones cock', Loki thought hysterically. 

There was movement in front of him, and with some effort he ripped his gaze away from the dead Warrior. He looked up just to stare straight into the blue eyes of the Odinson.  
Thor had stepped up, staring down at Laufey and his two sons, hair haloed in the soft light of the fireplace.  
The Thunderer's eyes were wide, pupils blown as he sneered down at his prisoners. Black blood was painted over his armor, arms and face, and Loki had to force himself not to cringe away from the power that radiated from the vengeful God in front of them. 

However, Thor did not look at Loki.  
No.  
Instead he directed his gaze at Laufey-king, ignoring the princes beside the elder Frost Giant. 

 

Thor

 

Thor had forced himself to ignore the two soldiers dragging in the youngest of Layfey's sons, falling hard onto his knees, curling into himself.

Instead he concentrated on the execution he had ordered. 

The blood lust was still coursing through the Thunderer's veins with all its might.  
It made him want to conquer and kill, to take Mjølner and continue to rage, to bring down any Jötun that dared to stand in his way. He was hungering for more blood, more carnage, to slaughter and howl and destroy anything and everything.  
He just wanted more. 

But the Thunderer knew that he had to concentrate, to implement the justice that he was going to bring to Jötunheimr today. 

Asgardian justice.

Cruel, but effective.

Hǫrgrblóð, the Blood Altar, was shining like a rare gem, the intricate spells and enchantments written onto its surface gleaming in the firelight.  
Thor had stood and watched with dark satisfaction as Hǫrgrblóð drank the blood of the elite of the Jötnar, the generals and nobility, the leaders and the head Alphas.

The Altar drunk lives, and it was thirsty tonight.  
Hungry.

Just like Thor. 

More than forty distinguished Frost Giants had already died on the stone, their lifeblood painting the surface a thick, oozing black. 

The Odinson glowered down at the last three prisoners, bound and on their knees.  
Only the king and his two surviving sons were left.  
The main course to a bloody feast. 

Thor gestured with his hand, and two of his soldiers stepped up to drag away the enormous corpse of the last victim, grunting under the weight of the headless body. 

From the corner of his eye he could see Loki lift his head, large red eyes focusing on him, willing him to acknowledge the former peace-hostage.  
But Thor could not.  
It would not do to be distracted, not now, not when Laufey-king and the princes were to be tried.  
Brought to justice, just like the rest of the nobility.  
Asgard was not going to show any mercy, not here, not now. 

Odin had made that very clear. 

No one threatened Asgard with war.  
No one.  
Hǫrgrblóð was here to ensure that all the realms would remember the consequences when they did.

Laufey was kneeling on the dirty-gray ice of the ground, horned head wavering with his labored breaths. The elder Jötun's body was twitching in pain, the many small and large wounds painting the skin of the fallen king black with blood.  
Thor sneered. He reminded himself that Frost Giants were nothing but large beasts, capable of making sounds, animals that needed to be conquered and harnessed.

His fond memories of Loki were tugged deep in the back of his mind.  
Sentiment had no place in a war. 

Thor stepped up to the fallen King of the Jötnar. He lifted his booted foot, grunting as he brought it down onto Laufey’s back, pushing the old Frost Giant further into the ground.  
Laufey snarled, his voice like brittle ice breaking. “Congratulations, Thor Peopleslayer, you are truly like your father. Content to destroy a whole race just to flaunt the strength of Asgard to the other realms.” The old king lifted his head and turned, red eyes spraying hate at the Odinson. “What will you do with the Icen realm that is now yours? There is nothing left to take from us. Odin has already stolen everything of worth. Jötunheimr lays in ruins. We have no riches, no treasures for you to steal, nothing. You have secured a broken realm of ice and snow.”

The old king spat on the ground, saliva mixed with black blood. 

Thor gave him a shove, watching as his bound enemy tumbled to the side, falling heavily onto his many wounds. The old Frost Giant did not let his pain show, but his breathing became more labored. 

Loki made a strangled sound of protest at the abuse of his father, but the pressure of a sword against his back silenced him successfully. 

Good.  
Thor needed no distraction.  
Not now.  
Not with what he had to do. 

His voice was full of contempt when he answered. “A broken realm? Perhaps. But what you fail to see is that I have conquered _you_. The new Jötunheimr will be of Asgard. And there need be no riches for that. I am happy just to see you laying at my feet. Bound. Defeated.”

Laufey let out a breathless laugh. “Maybe I have underestimated you, Thunderer. But it is of no matter. The Jötnar will resist you, or anyone, who tries to rule this realm that is not one of us. We are a proud people.”

“You are a defeated people.” Thor hissed. His heart raced, and he could taste blood on his tongue, the sounds of the recent battle still loud in his ears. He had to hold himself back not to call Mjølner to his fingers, to slay the kneeling enemy where he lay. 

Thor gave Laufey another shove with his boot and then stepped back. He made another gesture with his hands towards his waiting soldiers, and with a grunt Býleistr was pulled to his feet. The elder Icen prince fought hard as he was dragged towards Hǫrgrblóð, his heavy chains rattling as he growled and snarled, red eyes blazing in defiance. It took six soldiers to force the bucking prince to his knees and hold him in place, head pressed down on the altar. 

Loki's voice came in a panicked burst. “Stop, Thor, you can't....” The soldier behind him grabbed hold of one of his horns and snapped the young prince's head back, pressing a sharp blade against his throat. A thin trickle of black blood snaked its way down blue skin. 

Thor turned abruptly towards Loki, seeing his enemies youngest son as if through a red haze.  
“Gag him” he hissed.  
This was not the time or place to be distracted.  
He could not, would not listen to that voice, that sharp tongue that had spoken sense so many times in the past. He could not look into those pleading red eyes and give in to what they asked of him.

It was too late for that now.  
Much too late. 

Loki should have never run. 

Thor watched as a thick piece of leather was forced between Loki's teeth, then he turned back to stare at Laufey.  
The Jötun's red eyes were focused on the blond God towering above him. He ignored his sons, one held down on the sacrificial stone, the other kneeling behind him, both hopelessly struggling in their captor's grip. 

A Berserker stepped up to Hǫrgrblóð, a sharpened ax in his hand, and he lowered the blade on the thick neck of the kneeling prince. Heavy hands held Býleistr by his horns and shoulders, face down on the bloody stone. The Warrior's breath heaved with anxiety. 

When Thor raised his hand to command the execution of the elder prince, Laufey-king let out a choked growl. “So you mean to kill all of us? Murder every single Frost Giant in the realm? Then the balance of the worlds will be destroyed, and you will face Ragnarøkkr much earlier than you might wish for “

Thor sneered, white teeth flashing on tanned skin. “Oh no, I shall not kill all of you beasts. Just the Strongest. The Mightiest of all your Warriors. And then I shall argr the rest of the Alphas. Take their horns, and with it their strength. A country defeated is in no need of soldiers.” Thor grinned. “Only the Ergi will survive. And they will be the ones to rebuild your once so proud realm.”

Laufey snarled with hatred, breath heaving out of his shaking form. “The Jötnar will never stop fighting. One day Jötunheimr will be Jötun once more.”

Thor returned the gaze without blinking, and with an abrupt movement brought his hand down.  
“We shall see.”

The sound of the ax hitting flesh was wet and heavy, and Býleistr howled when the first strike hit him. The weapon had dug only half way into his neck, black blood spurting in great arches when the Berserker pulled out the weapon and swung it again. The second blow silenced the Icen prince. Býleistr's head dropped to the floor, rolling towards his father, dead eyes open and staring.  
The runes carved into Hǫrgrblóð pulsated red for a short moment as it feasted on the life of the prince, then settled once more. 

Loki heaved behind his gag, but the sound was drowned behind the deep-seated rumble that came from the Laufey's chest. 

Thor gave a nod, and Loki was pulled to his feet, his legs giving under him as he was dragged towards the Blood Stone. The young prince's eyes were ripped wide in horror, his weak struggles meaning nothing to the large, muscled soldiers.  
Loki bucked as he was bent over the altar, his hands pressing into his stomach, clenching impotently. He heaved behind his gag as his head was forced down onto the stone, cool liquid smearing over his stomach and face, soaking his fanned-out hair with congealing gore. 

From the corner of his eye he saw the Berserker step up to Hǫrgrblóð, the heavy ax smeared with Býleistr's blood. 

He was going to die. 

He was not ready. 

Please.

No. 

 

“Stop.” Thor's voice was loud, booming.

Loki blinked.

He turned his head slightly, chewing on the gag that was deeply lodged in his mouth, thick and wet with his saliva.  
Was Thor going to save him?  
By the Gods, please...

The Odinson stepped up to Loki, his unusual light blue eyes turned dark and stormy. He studied the bound prince beneath him, laying a possessive hand onto the Jötun's back.  
“I bid you to stop. I mean to claim this one...” Thor straightened himself. “... in the olden tradition of the stone. By the rights of Hǫrgrblóð, I demand Loki, prince of Jötunheimr, son of Laufey Utgardson, as my personal spoil.”

The Asgardians murmured, accompanied by nods and words of appreciation. 

Laufey snarled, shifting on the floor. “That one is no son of mine.”

“Ah.” Thor sneered, eyes focusing onto the kneeling king once more. “But we both know that he is of your blood. His heritage is written all over his skin. And now that your two Alpha sons are dead, that would make him the heir to the throne, would it not?”

Laufey hissed, his red eyes brimming with hatred. “No Ergi will ever sit on _my_ throne.” He snarled, words now directed towards Loki, who was squirming under Thor's heavy hand. “I always knew that you were good only for one thing, Ergi! I would have never sent you to Asgard if I had know you would bewitch my greatest enemy. You brought this upon us. **You.** The blood of our people is on your hands. I should have killed you the moment it was clear what you really were. _Mage_.” He spat out the last word like a curse. 

Thor laughed under his breath. “Your hatred is misdirected, fallen king. Loki has nothing to do with my actions here today. However, your prejudice against the entire Mage's caste has made you blind to what is right and what is wrong. It made you loose this war. You yourself upset the balance of these lands. And now, in a realm full of Ergis, even a Mage could be king...”

Thor ignored the snarl that came from Laufey's mouth, turning back towards the bound prince underneath him. With a quick motion he pulled a knife from his belt, bringing the sharp steel up to blue skin. Loki panted with fear as the blade caressed his lower back, then Thor pushed it under the hem of his trousers, sawing at the thick furs and leather until they gave way. The young Frost Giant jerked as his clothes were roughly pulled off him, bucking until a soldier grabbed his horns to hold him still as Thor stripped him, quick and efficient.  
Loki snarled behind his gag, twisting to throw another deadly glare at the Thunderer towering behind him. There was cold determination in the Odinson's eyes, his face a mask of indifference. 

Loki tensed, then started to shiver. He was bound and naked, bent over the bloody altar the Asgardians used to worship themselves.

Thor had said he would claim Loki in the olden way of the stone.  
As a personal spoil.

Surely he did not mean to....?

Terror overtook Loki, bubbling sharply in his stomach, pushing bitter bile into his throat. The Frost Giant struggled in earnest, bucking his whole body against the hands holding him down. Thor was like an unmoving mountain behind him, his hands on Loki's lower back burning like a brand on his cool skin. 

There was a rustling sound behind him, and he realized that Thor was unlacing his trousers. 

That damn idiot was going to debase him.  
Right here. Right now.  
May the Norns take his manhood and shrivel his balls. 

Loki snarled behind his gag and doubled his efforts in trying to get loose, kicking and flaying, pulling at his restraints. But it was to no avail. He was secured fast, bound tight. Another quick glance over his shoulder showed that Thor had pulled his flaccid cock from his pants, rubbing himself to life. 

Loki wished that he had stayed in Asgard the day he found out about the upcoming battle.  
He wished he was not here, the head of his brother laying on the floor, his father kneeling, sneering at his disgrace. He wished he was not surrounded by Asgardian generals and soldiers who were watching his humiliation, about to be publicly disgraced as a symbol of a war lost.  
To be raped in stead of a whole people.

But there was no mercy for Jötunheimr.  
Not that day. 

Thor took very little time to rouse himself to completion, the bloodlust easily tipping over into sexual hunger. The Odinson felt a brief flash of unease as he looked down at the struggling form beneath him, those large red eyes brimming with anger, the tense shoulders, the heavy hands on Loki's horns holding the young Frost Giant in place. But then another surge of adrenalin washed over him, and Thor reminded himself that this was the only way Loki could be saved from Hǫrgrblóð's hunger.

Odin had made it very clear that today the olden traditions were to be followed.  
The sacrifices the altar demanded had to be provided.  
One way or another.  
Those were the rules of the Blood Stone. 

Thor pressed Loki's legs further apart. The Jötun runt continued to scream, words muffled by the leather gag. The Thunderer was sure that Loki was cursing him with his sharp tongue in more colorful ways than he could ever imagine.  
But he could not, would not not give in.  
Loki would eventually understand that this had to be done to save his life.  
He should have never run. 

Thor grabbed the base of his erect cock and brought it between Loki's thighs, sliding the head along the folds of the tepid cunt until he found the opening.  
He grunted as he positioned himself, grabbing hold of Loki's hips with a punishing force. And then he pushed in in one smooth motion.  
Loki stiffened then jerked, trying to get away from the scorching cock breaching him. Thor ignored him and slid further into the tight cunt, the way a sword would into a sheath. He paused briefly when his cock met resistance, and with two sharp thrusts he laid claim on the virgin Ergi, penetrating the thick skin that closed off his dormant womb.  
Loki could not hold back the pained wail at the penetration, stifled by the gag but clearly audible. The Asgardians, who had been watching intently laughed at the anguished sound coming from the Icen prince. 

Laufey shifted and let out a low, hateful growl. “Congratulations, Odinson, you have managed to ergi that traitor of a prince. I should have killed him the moment he was birthed. Today I consider this my greatest mistake. At least have the generosity to kill me instead of having to watch this …abomination scream his way through what has always been coming for him.”

Thor ignored the snarling king and started to thrust in earnest. Loki's cunt was tight, a velvety smooth grip that clung to him, and the Thunderer growled as he fucked deep, embedding himself all the way to the hilt. He started a punishing rhythm, warm skin slapping against cool, the sound of the coupling loud in the otherwise quiet tent.  
The Jötun was making small, hiccuping noises every time Thor shoved his cock deep inside him, tensing against the continuous assault. Thor blinked as the red haze of the bloodlust washed over him again, encouraging his frenzied attack on the small Frost Giant.  
Thor spread his legs for better leverage and thrust harder, continued to piston his hips with the single goal of reaching his own orgasm. 

This would be better for everyone if it was over quickly. 

At one point Loki stopped struggling, his body yielding at the continuing assault and turning pliant, all tension leaving the blue body.  
Thor looked down, and he could see the red eyes had glazed over with tears, staring empty into nothingness. The hatred had been replaced by silent despair.  
The Thunderer felt a minute flash of unease, but it was quickly drowned in the red sea of lust and need. He looked down to where his cock slid in between the purple petals of Loki's cunt, and he pressed his fingers harder into the narrow hips, painting bruises onto the blue skin. He ignored the Asgardians watching on, the comments and the cheers that encouraged him with this damning deed.

Thor groaned as he fucked hard and fast, and then he felt his balls draw up, the orgasm rolling towards him like a blazing benediction. He pulled out abruptly and stepped back, working his cock until he came with a snarl. 

Loki flinched when the hot spurts of cum hit his cool skin, and he closed his eyes when Thor spoke the traditional words that had not been spoken for thousands of years. “By the law of the Hǫrgrblóð, with his blood and seed I enforce my claim on Loki Laufeyson, former prince of the Jötnar. I hereby mark him as my personal spoil, for him to serve me as I see fit.”  
Thor leaned in to rub his cum into the cold skin, marking his spoil, cementing his claim. Hǫrgrblóð's magic pulsated, flickering over Loki's body for the fraction of a second, sealing the binding spell. 

The Odinson stepped back, milking the rest of the seed from his softening cock. 

Loki was his. 

He was not to die, at least not today.

He ignored his cheering soldiers behind him, eyes falling back upon the kneeling king. He nodded at Laufey who was staring up at him, hate sparkling in the old, red eyes. “I believe you asked me for your death. I shall grant it.”

Loki was pulled off Hǫrgrblóð by a single guard, his knees giving way the moment he was off the stone. He crumbled into a heap on the floor and was roughly pulled to the side, away from the altar. 

Thor nodded, and the old king snarled at the soldiers who came to pull him to his feet. Laufey stood without force, tall and proud, and walked towards the Blood Stone with his head held high. He kneeled down without hesitation, placing his head onto the altar in his own volition.

“Get it over with, Peopleslayer.” Laufey kept his eyes trained on the son of his worst enemy, fury sparkling deep within their depths. 

Thor gave a quick nod towards the executioner. 

The Berserker stepped up, and without a moment of hesitation he swung the ax with all his might, beheading the king of the Jötnar with a single, clean strike under the thundering cheer of the Asgardians. 

Hǫrgrblóð drank the life greedily, the spells and enchantments flicking to life, magic running along the runes as the king's blood soaked the stone. 

Thor turned towards his soldiers. “Brothers, today we have won a war, claimed a realm and killed a king. We shall return to Asgard. And then, my brothers and sisters in arms, we celebrate.” Thor raised his fist. “FOR ODIN! FOR ASGARD!”

The yell echoed over the empty battlefield, and it was picked up by a thousand voices.


	19. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I had loads of wonderful comments after the last chapter, bless you all. Now there were some questions, and I just wanted to confirm one thing for all of you: this fic, as unmanageable it may seem now, will have a happy Thorki ending. The way there is not an easy or happy one and will be littered with heartache and angst and idiocity and some dub-con. But it will happen. That being said, it is AT LEAST 20 chapters off. Which means I have created a darn monster. But there you go. 
> 
> And thanks to everyone who continue to read and comment, you guys are the best thing in the world!
> 
> Also, my beta-reader uluka is back from holiday, YAY! All mistakes are my own cause sometimes I miss one of her suggestions or I make some little changes before I post. That being said, kudos to her for giving her time for free to help me!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Loki was lying on the cold, dirty floor, naked, heaving for breath.  
His cunt hurt.  
He could feel a slippery wetness trail down between his leg, and he absentmindedly wondered whether it was blood, or cum, or both.  
Probably both.  
Being made Ergi was a bloody, painful business. Everybody knew that. 

Loki curled into himself, eyes burning with unshed tears, wishing he could melt into the floor.  
Or disappear.  
Either would do at this point.  
But on top of everything else, they had taken his seiðr. 

Loki shifted, the congealing blood covering the front of his body slowly starting to itch. Soldiers were walking past him, and he was painfully aware of his nakedness, his inability to cover himself. He tried to pull his knees towards his chest, but his cunt throbbed, and he left them where they were. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the voices, the joking and cheering, more than one passerby throwing a lewd comment his way.

Some of these men and women he knew, recognized even.  
Knew their names, their stories. 

And they had watched as he was...

When Thor...

Loki turned his head towards the floor.  
He was shivering.  
He felt sick. 

x

 

Thor grinned broadly as his highest-ranking men and women slowly trailed out of the tent, and he shook hands and clasped backs as they left. He listened to the congratulations, laughed at the jokes and accepted praise and tributes the way he always did at the end of a victorious battle.  
It was one of the things expected of a true leader. 

Yet his smile never reached his eyes, for deep inside, Thor felt empty.  
Hollow.  
How was that possible?  
How could his bloodlust still bubble inside him, still not be satisfied?

He had won a war today, after all.  
Killed a king.  
Conquered a whole realm. 

Jötunheimr was his. 

Thor did not look at Laufey's large, headless body still bent over Hǫrgrblóð, or his and Býleistr's heads sitting on the floor, red eyes empty, staring into nothingness. He was going to take them back to Asgard and offer them to his father, to show that he had kept true to his word.  
His eyes trailed over to Loki, who was curled into a small ball on the floor next to the Blood Stone.  
Naked. Debased. 

Thor swallowed. 

He had done as he was bidden, sure in his heart that Odin had made the right choice in having the Blood Stone brought to the Icen realm, to force their enemy to their knees with so much force. 

The Allfather knew best, after all. 

Right?

Right. 

Thor felt a pang of unease, but he fought it down. 

He should feel triumphant. 

He should be celebrating.

Thor kept the empty grin on his face as the rest of his elite trailed past. When the tent was almost empty, one of his most distinguished Berserkers stepped up to him, slapping his back in congratulations.  
The Berserker's voice was dark, raspy. His features were pulled into a satisfied grin. “A good war, Lord Thor. I commend you. You really are your father's son. A born leader.”  
The enormous man stepped closer, bending down towards the Odinson with a glint in his eyes. “Now, my Lord, I was wondering about the spoil...” His eyes flicked over to Loki, and the sneer widened into something unsavory. Thor followed the gaze, taking in the lean blue body covered in white tattoos and scars, the long black hair trailing over his back, the small form curled protectively into himself. Loki's features were drawn, empty, head turned towards the floor.  
“He's a real beauty.” The Berserker licked his lips. “As you well know, my Lord, in olden times regal spoils blessed by Hǫrgrblóð were shared with distinguished soldiers as a sign of gratitude.” 

Thor gritted his teeth and fought down the sharp twist of anger inside of him. The need to call Mjølner to his fingers, to slay the man in front of him was almost overwhelming. Instead he focused on keeping his mouth set into a smile. He knew, of course, that Loki, even though he was bound, smeared in black blood, hair tangled and eyes dull, was beautiful. Exotic. 

And the Berserker was right. In the olden days royal thralls were shared with generals and victorious soldiers as an acknowledgment of their bravery, and to honor their feats. 

It was tradition. 

Thor looked up at the enormous Berserker, taller and wider even than himself, muscles bulging, his naked upper body covered only by an animal pelt. He would _rip_ Loki apart. 

Damn the traditions.  
That was not going to happen. 

It had already taken a lot of Thor's strength and effort to defile Loki the way he had tonight. He was not going to whore him out to the rest of his men who believed they were worthy. 

No one was worthy of having Loki.

No one. 

Not even himself. 

Thor clasped the man's back and guided him towards the exit of the tent, away from the shivering Frost Giant on the floor.  
“The traditions are wise and have served our people well for many generations.” Thor kept his voice even. “Yet I intend to claim the Laufeyson as my personal thrall. I am sure you understand that I do not wish to share him,so not to spoil him for my own bed.” Thor grinned. It did not reach his eyes. “However, any of the other captives are yours to take if that is your wish. There are some other runts that may be of interest.”

The Berserker laughed, a good-humored sound. “He is a real beauty coming from such horrible stock. I cannot say I was not anticipating your answer, my Lord. I would do the same. All hail Odin.”

“All hail Odin.”

 

Thor waited as the tent cleared, only a few guards left in the wake.  
He took a couple of deep breaths. 

There were many things left for him to do.  
He still had to inaugurate the festivities, oversee the breaking down of the camp, talk to the soldiers that were to stay behind. He had to command the removal of the horns of all Alpha Warriors, appoint an ambassador for Jötunheimr and make sure that his orders were to be followed even while he went back to Asgard. 

Thor very much needed a drink. 

Slowly he turned towards Loki.  
The former Icen prince was still lying on the floor where he had fallen.  
Loki did not raise his eyes, but when he felt Thor approaching he pulled his arms closer to his chest, as if he could make himself even smaller. 

Thor slowly unbuckled his heavy cape and then went to his knees to spread it over Loki's naked body.  
Loki did not acknowledge him, just continued to shiver.  
Thor hesitated for a moment, then pushed himself into a standing position once more. 

He gestured towards the soldiers that had remained inside the tent. “Take him back to Asgard. The prison master will inform you where the Laufeyson is to be brought to.” Two guards nodded in agreement. Thor watched as Loki was pulled to his feet and stepped aside as they pulled him out of the tent, taking him to his new cell. 

He he would have to make things right with Loki.  
Later. 

For now he had to celebrate a victory. 

 

X

 

Loki was roughly pulled to his feet. 

There was a soldier on each side of him, and he was grabbed by his arms just above his elbow, thick fingers digging cruelly into his skin. Vertigo washed over him and he leaned forward to retch against his gag, sour acid heaving from his stomach. 

They did not give Loki the time to steady himself but immediately hauled him along. They left the tent, turned left, walking through the camp towards the Bifröst. Loki trained his gaze onto the ground, ignoring the catcalls and insulting remarks thrown his way.  
He was wearing Thor's cape, which marked him as much as a spoil as his defilement did.  
And apparently word of what had happened had gotten around.  
But the taunts washed over him like white noise.  
Loki's head felt empty.  
It was hard to concentrate.  
He stumbled between his guards until they reached the destination just outside camp, steadying his shaking knees until Heimdallr opened the Bifröst. 

Loki kept his eyes closed as he was pulled through the universe and landed, hard, in Asgard. He took a couple of deep breaths as the familiar dry heat of Asgard blistered on his cool skin. 

The next couple of minutes, or hours, Loki was not sure which, he followed his captors into Odin's castle. He shuffled over dark floors, through long, narrow hallways, deeper and deeper into the bowels of Asgard. Once or twice Loki raised his head, noting that the corridors were dark and bleak, no mosaics on the floor, no tapestries on the walls, only random torches illuminating their way. 

It made sense, he guessed.  
Prisoners of war were usually not housed in the guest wing. 

Finally they arrived at a narrow stairwell spiraling upwards, and his guards did not hesitate to haul Loki up the stairs. He was heaving with effort as they continued to climb, 50 stairs, 100, until they finally stopped at a small door darkened with age, all the way at the top. 

One of the guards turned the key in the heavy, brass lock and pushed the door open. 

They gave Loki another shove, and he stumbled into a small room, bare white walls and floors, a small bed in one corner, a low desk in the other. 

His cell.

With quick and studied motions the soldiers opened Loki's restraints, pulling at the long chain that wrapped around his waist, unlocking his cuffs.  
The only thing they left him bound with was the torque around his neck, restraining his seiðr. 

Then the guards left. 

The door slammed closed behind them, and Loki listened to the the key turning, locking him inside securely.

The first thing Loki did was to rip off the gag that was still deeply lodged in his mouth, sodden and heavy with his saliva. He gagged as he pulled it out, and instantly threw it in a corner, as far away from himself as he could. 

The second thing he did was to run his fingers over the torque fastened around his neck.  
The metal was slightly warm under his touch. He stroked over the collar, fingers running over what felt like symbols and spells etched into the hard surface. He rubbed and scratched at them, but the material was solid, and the spells were woven too deeply.  
His fingers continued to roam, along the back, finding no lock or seam that he could have forced open. Not that the expected it. The Dwarves of Niðavellir were not known to be fools, after all. He found that the torque had two open ends in the front, curling decoratively in small spirals towards his chest.  
Loki tugged once, twice, but his seiðr was truly caught.

For now there was nothing he could do about it.

Slowly he lowered his hand.  
Loki took a deep, grounding breath. And another. 

He looked around.

To his right was a small bed with a thick mattress covered with a blanket and a small pillow. A white writing desk with a chair leaned against the opposite wall. Next to it was a hip-high shelf containing a couple of books.  
Loki raised his gaze to the ceiling, mildly surprised that he could see the sky, a glass dome stretching above him, opening his view into the never-ending galaxy.  
Even though the suns stood high in the sky, no heat permeated the enormous window. 

Loki lowered his gaze. 

He was exhausted.

He slowly turned, and noted another door. He stepped up to it and carefully pushed it open, The next-door room was much smaller, covered in white tiles, a bucket of water in one corner and a covered hole in the floor opposite of it. A low shelf held towels, wash cloths, a bar of soap. 

The bathing room.

Loki looked down himself. Where he was not covered with Thor's cape he could see his blue body painted with streaks of black blood and droplets of dried cum.  
His head was a fuzzy tumble of muted emotions, and for a moment he just stood in the doorway, staring at the room laid out in front of him. It took him a long while before he finally shrugged off the cape off his shoulders, letting it fall in a crumbled pile to the floor. 

Loki walked towards the bucket of water, taking a rough wash cloth and a bar of soap from the shelf. He lowered himself onto the floor, wincing when a dull pain shot up his insides, reminding him cruelly about what had happened.  
He mechanically dipped the soap into the cool water, lathered it in the cloth, and started to wash himself.  
Loki's mind blanked as he rubbed at the congealed blood clinging to his chest, in slow, mechanical circles, staring ahead. He rubbed until his skin was sore, and then he worked his ways along his arms, down his stomach, scrubbing, rinsing, lathering. He wrung out the rag frequently, turning the clear water first a foamy gray, then black.  
Without blinking he tipped the bucket over, watching dispassionately as the dirty water swirled around him and disappeared into the lowered drain in the middle of the room. 

He refilled the bucket.  
He rinsed the cloth, lathered it again. 

Loki washed his face. His hair. 

Next he moved on to the sticky mess between his legs, blood mixed with cum, snaking all the way down to his knees. Loki pressed his mouth together, forcing his burning eyes to stay open as he carefully slid the wash cloth between his legs, trying to ignore the dull throbbing reaching all the way inside of him. He washed himself slowly, his thoughts detached in a way that would worry him if he had the strength to care.  
He did not. 

He worked his way down his thighs, past his knees, down to his toes.

He emptied the bucket.

Filled it again. 

When he was done he started at his chest again. Rubbed it until his skin burned. Until he felt too raw. He moved along his body once more, washing what he could reach with too much vigor.  
He dumped a couple of buckets of cold water over his head, rinsing soap off his skin.

Then he started rubbing at his chest again. 

When Loki finally stopped, he still felt dirty, as if there was a thin, sticky layer covering him from head to toe. He could still feel Thor's hands on his hips where he had painted purple bruises on his skin, like a fresh brand, burning him, marking him. 

Loki wished that shame would wash off as easily as blood and cum.

He sat on the floor for a very long time, allowing the memory of what had happened wash over him like a tidal wave. His family was dead. Jötunheimr was destroyed and to be ruled by Asgard with an iron fist, most of its Warrior caste dead or forcefully ergid. 

Tears finally started to fall, hot and thick on his cool skin. 

Loki hung his head and wept.

For a very long time. 

 

x

It took Loki a whole day to manage to struggle out of the deep, dark well of despair.  
His sadness was bottomless, heart-breaking, all-consuming. 

He had witnessed so much death. Been through so much pain. 

And now he was a prisoner. At the mercy of someone whom he has once considered a _friend_. 

That, somehow, made everything that had happened even worse.

As the second day passed, the sadness slowly ebbed down, and it was replaced by something else entirely. Anger. Resentment. Outrage. The wheels in Loki's head started turning again, and where he had despaired he now churned over ideas of escape and revenge. 

Loki wondered what was happening to Jötunheimr while he was here, confined in the grasp of his enemy. His realm lay in ruins and was now in the hands of Asgard, which would rape, pillage and kill before installing their own government, and demand high fines and cripple the citizens with taxation they could not afford.  
And even though there was nothing left to take, Asgard would find new demands to bring the Icen realm even further to their knees. 

Loki was left to stew in his own thoughts for three whole days, pacing the floor up and down, up and down, counting the steps, staring out the window. He washed himself up to four times a day and still felt dirty, unable to remove the stain that clung to his soul. 

The only distraction to the silence of his cell was when his meals were delivered twice a day, once early in the morning and once late in the afternoon, by a pair of soldiers.  
His guards never talked to him.  
The diet they brought consisted of bread, apples and water, nothing special, and Loki quietly chewed on the food while he continued plotting. 

He knew his burning anger would need fuel, so he ate and drank. 

And waited for something to happen. 

 

It was the afternoon of the third day that Loki finally heard a single pair of heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs. Loki slowly stood as the steps drew closer, standing tall as the key was slotted into the lock and the door opened. 

Thor filled out the door frame, face tanned, light streaks of bleached strands in his wheat-colored hair. 

Loki stared at him.  
Too many emotions whirled through his head. Anger, resentment, fury, but also betrayal, and a tiny bit of sadness at a friendship lost.  
In the end, the white-hot anger took over.  
Loki swallowed and remained silent, fisting his hands at his side. The urge to pounce on Thor, to scratch his face and ram into his chest the dagger that hung loosely on his belt, was overwhelming.  
Instead he remained still, eyes blazing, returning Thor's gaze with his head held high. 

Thor's face was soft, and he held out both hands before he stepped into the room, a peace gesture.  
“Loki.”  
Nothing else.  
Just his name.

Loki swallowed hard. Tears shot into his eyes. He had envisioned this moment countless times, imagined what he would say, how he would react. What insults he would throw into the Thunderer's face.  
Now he was lost for words.  
Did that idiot really just walk into his cell looking like a beaten dog, offering a gesture of peace, hoping that Loki would ... what?  
Forgive him?

Loki curled his fingers into a fist, slowly opened them again, just to ease the tension.  
No.  
No way in Hel.

Loki pulled his mouth into a mocking smile. “Peopleslayer.” His red eyes sparkled. He grimly relished how Thor's eyes clouded over. The Odinson had the audacity to look _hurt_.  
Loki straightened his spine, continued staring at Thor.  
Then he dropped the thick, red cape that had covered his nudity.  
He smiled bitterly at Thor's look of surprise as he stood naked in front of the Odinson, arms loosely at his side, eyes blazing a challenge. His voice was low and even. “Will you fuck me on the bed? Or do you wish to take me on the floor, like the animal that you really are?”

Thor's face fell, his eyes never leaving Loki's red ones. His voice was quiet. “Of course not. That's not what I am here for. ”  
Loki sneered. “What a surprise. Because I thought that's what I was now. Your personal thrall. A war trophy. For you to fuck as you please. I believe your words were that you did not want share me so not to spoil me for your own bed? Go on then, Peopleslayer. Take what is yours! You already raped me once, after all!”

Thor swallowed hard, and he shook his head, looking pained. “No. I ... No.” He looked up, searching for Loki's gaze, holding it. “I am truly sorry about what has happened, Loki. But it had to be done to save your life.”

Loki snarled. “It? It had to happen? You mean raping me, yes? As the generals and my _father_ looked on? Are you talking about fucking me into the blood of my brother? Or are referring to torturing me with the Dwarven Torque? Which of these things were necessary to save me, oh mighty Thunderer?”

Thor blinked, he looked truly unhappy. Still, his voice was clear when he answered. “I am sorry, I truly am, Loki. But I had no other choice.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “There is ALWAYS another choice.”

Thor shook his head. He stepped up and slowly went to his knees, reaching for the cape Loki had dropped, handing it back to him without looking at his body. “The only other other choice would have been to take your life. I had to silence your powers and claim you in the Olden ways. It was asked of me. I apologize for any hurt I caused you. ” 

Loki stared at Thor, snarling. “Is that what you are here for, Thor, to snivel remorse at your prisoner of war? Claiming that you had to follow traditions, as if you had no other option? What are you, a mindless drone that follows your father's orders without ever _thinking_ for yourself?”  
Loki sneered, white teeth sparkling in his blue face. “You could have dealt with your victory in so many ways... I don't even know where to begin. You could have taken your prisoners into Asgard's dungeons instead of murdering them, locked them up for eternity and thrown away the key. You could have been _merciful_. Instead you... you...” Hatred washed through Loki and he snatched at the cape, pressing it against his chest, white-knuckled. “Instead you slaughtered my people. You killed my brother. You raped me in his blood and made my father watch! And then you murdered him as well! DON'T TELL ME YOU HAD NO OTHER CHOICE, YOU DAMN COWARD!”

Thor backed off at the fury that sprayed off the slight Frost Giant, voice still controlled and quiet as he answered.“Asgard and Jötunheimr were at WAR! A war provoked by your father. A war Jötunheimr LOST! Laufey knew the consequences his actions would bring, to his realm, to his people!” Thor stood tall. “In the end all I did was bring justice to an unjust realm.”

Loki's red eyes sparkled with fury.“Justice? You call it justice to murder your prisoners after your victory has already been assured? To ergi the whole Warrior caste?” He laughed bitterly. “Did Odin call it justice when he removed the Casket of Ancient Winters and left Jötunheimr plunged into darkness? When he doomed a whole people to starve? At least your father did not murder the king and his generals, and demean the rest of the people in a most cruel manner.”

Thor took a deep breath, eyes narrowing. “You are correct. Odin has shown mercy after the last war , and look what happened. Just a few millennia later Jötunheimr has dared to prepare an attack on us! Asgard will not stand for this mindless war-mongering.” Thor's eyes were blazing now. “And for your beloved Warrior caste! You yourself told me about the violations they brought down onto the Mages and Ergis, taking them against their will, raping them, forcing them to labor, killing them without consequences. Is that what you wanted? For yourself? For others?” 

Loki laughed hollowly. “No, I much rather wanted for Asgardians to rape and debase all the Alphas instead. Tell me, how does that make you any better than what the Warriors did to the Mages caste?”

Thor pushed a hand through his hair. Loki could see he was losing his patience. “The Alphas are not to be raped. However they shall loose their status by having their horns removed as a penalty for their actions. An example has to be made. The patriarchy of Jötunheimr is no more, and the realm can be rebuilt anew.”

Loki shook his head. “Fantastic. A fresh start under the thumb of oppressors. And you have made such a wonderful example of Asgard's callousness and barbarity. I mean, I am sure it will make all the other realms think twice before going against the mighty Odin and his son. Really, in the end all worked out just fine for you.”

Thor frowned. 

Loki glowered, stood even taller. “If all of this is true, Thor, then why did you have to leave me alive? I am a prince. I should have been executed with the rest of my family. Why did you spare me? Was it because I am already Ergi and therefore weak? Or because you knew you could fuck me against my will without facing any consequences? And then do it again in private, as your personal spoil?”

Thor growled at the accusation. He shook his head. “No, Loki, that's not...”

Loki snarled. “Then tell me _why._ Why are so many dead, and I am still alive? Why did you not make an example of me?”

Thor stared at Loki for a long while, and his eyes softened. Finally he spoke.  
“Because I did not want you to die. I did not want to lose you.”

Loki felt like he had been hit in the stomach by an iron fist. He searched Thor's face for malice or even humor, but he saw the same sincerity he had come to know from the Odinson.  
Loki took a deep breath. He had been raped and his seiðr had been taken, and all because Thor did not want to lose him?  
“You... you...” Loki was speechless.  
The cloud of fury that had been curling in his mind thickened, and then blackened his vision.

Loki lowered his head instinctively and charged, ramming his horns into the hard stomach of Thor who, unprepared for the attack, stumbled.  
It took the Thunderer less than a second to regain his footing, and then he grabbed Loki by the arms and swung him around. Thor wrestled the much slighter Jötun to the ground, pining him down onto the cold floor. He watched as Loki snarled and spit, battling against Thor's bulk holding him down. He beat his blue fists against the gold-brown arms and chest, scratching and clawing, tears streaming down his face. 

“YOU GOD-DAMN BRUTE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! YOU KILLED THEM ALL! YOU RAPED ME AND HURT ME AND NOW.... NOW YOU.... ”

Loki twisted and turned, trying to break free of the restraint that was Thor's body, but the Asgardian did not move, just held him in place without excess force, one leg on his chest, his fingers tightening around his prisoner's wrists.  
He waited for a long while until Loki finally calmed, tears streaking his blue cheeks, panting hard. 

“Are you calm?” Thor kept his voice neutral.

Loki continued catching his breath, chest rising and falling fast.  
“Fuck you!” he whispered.  
Thor continued to hold him down for several more minutes, until, finally, Loki nodded, not caring to speak.  
He felt defeated, in every way.

“Good. Come on...” Thor let go slowly, watching him closely in case he would start clawing at him once more. When nothing happened, he offered Loki his hand to pull him back up.  
Loki ignored it and rolled onto his knees, slowly pushing himself back into a standing position. He clutched the cape to his chest. 

Thor's voice was soft. “I am truly sorry for everything that happened, Loki.”

Loki closed his eyes. He felt the trails of his tears cool against the too-warm air.

His voice now was a mere whisper.  
“Leave. Now.”

To his surprise, Thor did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I imprisoned Loki in a tower.  
> He is my favorite Disney princess after all.  
> Sue me.


	20. A choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that Thor is an idiot? May I also remind you that he is still kind of a young idiot, maybe in his early 20s?  
> But boy howdy, he is such a major fuckup, it makes my head hurt sometimes.
> 
> Thanks to my beta uluka, she is a precious gem and I can not thank her enough. 
> 
> And everyone leaving comments and kudos - you literally are the reason why I write this story. It is amazing to know people like what I do!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Thor was back the very next day, when the suns were high in the sky, illuminating the golden towers of Asgard. 

Loki heard the Thunderer make his way up the stairs, heavy booted feet stomping on stone, and he turned his back when the door was pushed open. He could feel Thor, his mere presence demanding attention, but Loki did not give it. He stared down at the sheets below him, letting his fingers run over the thin, slightly rough material. 

He heard as the Odinson stepped into his cell, closing the door with a low click. Then his voice, too loud in the otherwise silent room. “Loki.”  
Loki bunched the fabric in his hand. He did not turn.  
He heard Thor step closer, could almost feel the heat radiating of the Thunderer's body.

Thor waited, and when he realized that his prisoner would not acknowledge him, he cleared his throat. “I brought some clothes.” There was a moment of silence. “I also have a delicacy from Vanaheimr for you. I remembered how much you liked sweets.” 

Loki closed his eyes, swallowed down the anger that clogged his throat. He opened them again and turned ever so slightly to look at Thor's outstretched hands.  
One was holding what looked like a pair of simple trousers. Loki recognized them. They used to belong to him when he was still a peace-hostage.  
Another lifetime...

The other hand was offering a small sugared pastry.  
As if he was some kind of mindless animal that could be soothed with a treat after it had been hurt. 

Loki stood slowly. He walked towards the Odinson and took the light gray, thin pants. He dropped the cape covering his nudity and pulled them on without delay, not caring if his warden was looking on. He was nothing more than a spoil anyway. Without integrity or honor. Thor had full rights to his body from now on. So what did it matter where he got dressed?  
Loki pulled at the the drawstring to close the trousers at his narrow hips, the material flowing softly over his limbs. He refused to feel thankful for being allowed to wear clothes. 

He looked up at the Odinson staring down at him. Quickly Thor evaded his eyes, swallowed hard. Then he raised the sweet once more, like an offering.

Loki glowered at him. ”I am not sure what kind of game you are playing, but it is not going to work. I am your prisoner, your spoil, yours to do with as you please. There is no need to woo me with gifts.”

Thor looked down at him, sadly. “I wish to apologize, Loki.”

Loki snored. “By offering me a treat? How very precious.” He shook his head, crossing his arms. His eyes were blazing. “However, you could make a real start by taking off this damn torture device.” He tugged at the torque laying heavily around his neck. 

Thor stilled. “I can't do that. You are too powerful a Mage. You would flee.”

Loki snarled. “I could. I could run. I could also set your clothes on fire or explode your darn head. But I won't. I can...swear.” He closed his eyes, for a moment, opened them again.  
“If you need me to, I will swear. I won't run.”  
Oh, how it burned to say these words.  
But it was nothing compared to how much he wanted, _needed_ his seiðr back. 

Thor shook his head. “I can't give you access to your magic. That is out of the question. And, either way, the bond placed upon us by Hǫrgrblóð means that you will not be able to cause me any serious harm. It is part of the spell. ”  
Loki grit his teeth. He had not known that. Half of his plans for revenge shattered. 

Loki felt anguish build inside of him. “But you can? You can place this anguish upon me?” Thor just stared at him. “You can't leave me without my seiðr. It hurts.” Loki swallowed, hard. “It hurts a lot.”  
Gods, he hated how much this felt like pleading. 

Thor looked uncomfortable, but he shook his head resolutely. “I am sorry. This is not negotiable. You are going to have to get used to it.” 

Loki hissed at the callous answer. The slap he dealt in return was ridiculously satisfying. 

Thor stared down at him, surprise painting his features. 

Loki turned away once more. His voice was no more than a hiss. “If you are not here to force yourself on me, I wish to be left in peace, Peopleslayer.”

Thor shifted. “But Loki, I...”

“And take that damn sweet with you. I don't want it.”

Loki sat down on the bed, his back towards his warden.

Thor left. 

 

X

 

The Thunderer returned two days later. 

“I may be heading to Svartálfheimr to battle Malekith, your father's ally.”

Loki was sitting in the middle of the room, head leaned backwards, staring out of the enormous window. He had not moved when Thor stepped in. 

“Good. I hope you fall on a sword and die a coward's death.”

Thor winced. It was bad luck to wish such to a soldier heading out to war. He shook his head. “I wanted to talk to you about … your standing when I return.”

Loki turned slowly, eyes sparkling. “My standing? You mean as your thrall? Why? Are you going to put me on a leash and parade me around?”

Thor shook his head. “No. I mean...” He took a deep breath. “I mean to make you my official consort when I return.”

Loki snarled. “Fuck off.”

“Loki, I....”

Loki stood, glaring at the Odinson, somewhat towering above him. “ No. Don't Loki me. I don't care what pretty name you give it, thrall, consort, spoil, I am not going to spread my legs for you, not willingly, not ever. So fuck off.”

Thor did not move. His face had taken a slightly red tinge. “A consort is of high social standing in this court. My mother Frigga is the Allfather's consort, after all, and...”

Loki turned abruptly. “Did Odin force himself on Lady Frigga? Bend her over an altar and fuck her in front of an audience?”

Thor looked uneasy. “No, of course not.”

“Then your mother has nothing in common with me.” Loki's red eyes bored into blue ones. “I am not going to submit to you! Not ever! If you want me in your bed, you are going to have to force me.” He crossed his arms. “Again.”

Thor stared down at the slight Frost Giant. “I do not wish to force you.”

Loki laughed out, a desperate sound. “You're a little late with that. ” He looked up at Thor, seeing the hurt in the large man's eyes. “Tell me, oh mighty Thunderer, did you really think I would open my arms and take you in willingly? Pretend to like it, even?”

“No, I...” Thor looked at a loss for words. His eyes darted around the room. “I did not wish for you to pretend. We had something, you and I. When we kissed...”

“STOP!” Loki could not suppress the snarl. “Do not taint that memory with this wickedness. Between then and now are millennia, aeons. Those days are truly passed. And they shall not be relived.”

Thor raised his hands to lay them onto Loki's arms, but when he saw the Jötun stiffen, he lowered them again. “You used to like my company. Enjoyed being around me.”

Loki groaned. “You can not be this stupid. I used to merely tolerate you, before you decided to rape me. Humiliate me. Castrate my seiðr. Now I am disgusted by your mere presence. I pray to the Norns to give you a coward's death every night, so that you may never ride to Valhalla.”  
Loki gave Thor a shove. “Here is how this is going to work. Either you bind me and force yourself upon me, just like you did before, or you leave me the fuck alone. Stop visiting me. Stop hoping this is ever going to be something it never was. I am not going to share your bed willingly. Ever. ”

Thor looked lost. “Please, Loki. You don't understand.”

Loki stared at him.”I understand perfectly well. You wish to go back to something you believe we had. But nothing can change what you did. Nothing.” 

He did not back off when Thor stepped up to him and raised his hand, wanting to stroke his face.  
Instead the Frost Giant snarled viciously, like the animal he felt he had become.

Hurt clouded Thor's eyes. He lowered his hand. 

They stared at each for a long while. 

Then the Thunderer left the room without another word.

 

x

 

Thor did not know what to do.  
He had ordered his warriors to catch Loki alive, not to harm him.  
He had let him live.

He did not even chain him up in the dungeons, but was keeping him in a rather comfortable cell above the city.

Yes, he had lain claim on him in the Olden Ways. But in war it was something any Ergi would have had to expect. Especially as the son of a defeated king. Any other beautiful maiden would have faced the same fate.  
It was tradition.

In the end it was really Loki's fault.  
If only he had stayed in Asgard, none of this would have happened. 

Thor tried to concentrate on his preparations for battle in Svartálfheimr, tried listening to his generals as they planed their departure. But he found that his thoughts continued going back to his angry spoil. He needed Loki calm and open-minded to discuss their future. And he needed it done before he left for another war. For taking this kind of distraction to battle was not an option. 

But the Frost Giant had closed up, built a wall of anger and hate Thor did not know how to break through. 

The Thunderer tried to focus on his generals, nodded at suggestions, signed orders, allocated men. 

But he was distracted.  
He needed this issue resolved before he left. 

Thor decided to to talk to Frigga.

x

He found his mother in her favorite herb garden. She was kneeling in the dirt, her fingers curling around dark, fertile earth as she planted young seedlings in careful rows.  
He stepped up to her respectfully and waited until she noticed him, fully absorbed by her work.  
When she lifted her head and saw him, her mouth spread into a welcoming smile and she stood gracefully, patting earth from her dress.  
Frigga hugged her son and pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek. “Thor. How good it is to see you.”

Thor smiled back at her, soothed by her mere presence.  
“Mother. It is good to see you too. You look well.”

Frigga smiled. She took his arm and led him towards a small table in the shade of a large, blooming tree. “Come, sit with me, Thor. Would you like something to drink?”

Thor nodded “I thank thee, mother.”

Frigga waved to one of her servants, sitting down with graceful movements. Thor sat next to her, waited until she had settled. Then he cleared his throat. “Father has called for me to join him in battle in Svartálfheimr. There have been a couple of rogue groups attacking, and he wants me to control the flanks of his army while he is leading the main attack.”

Frigga's face turned solemn. It was not the first time both her husband and her son had gone to war together, but she was worried each time nonetheless. 

“I shall pray to the Norns for your safe return.”

A servant approached respectfully, and set down a beaker of mead and two glasses. Frigga took one of the goblets and poured a healthy amount into it before handing it to Thor.

“I thank thee, mother.”

She smiled, pouring herself a second goblet and took a small sip. Her eyes were inquisitive when she looked up at her son. “I have heard that since your victory in Jötunheimr, everything has been running to your satisfaction.” She took another sip, watching him closely. 

Thor took a large gulp, swallowed. “Yes. The Icen realm has submitted and everything is in order. No major issues have arisen so far.”

Frigga's deep blue eyes were trained on her only son, her gaze never leaving his face. “I also heard that you spared the young Icen prince's life and had him brought back to Asgard.” She smiled reassuringly when she saw Thor's finger tense around his goblet. “I am glad about it. It would have been a shame if Loki had been sacrificed.”

Thor stared down at the golden drink in his hands.”He sees it differently.”  
Frigga waited for her son to continue. Thor swallowed before going on. “Loki has proven to be extremely difficult since our return.”

Frigga leaned forward, placing a soft hand on his thickly muscled forearm. “Son, you were victorious in the war between your two realms. You had to kill his father and brothers, and it is said that you… humiliated him in front of your men. Then you imprisoned him in a tower. Loki has always been a proud and strong-minded creature.” Frigga squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Of course this will be extremely hard for him. It would be for you too.”

Thor's mouth thinned into a line. “He should be thankful that he is still alive. The war was provoked by Laufey, and the Frost Giants lost. Loki was one of the sons of the king and had to expect to be submitted to the Olden ways. All of the consequences were the natural stake for the losing side.”

Frigga never lost her smile, her voice soothing. “Of course, and I am sure Loki is aware of that as well. But remember, my son, he grew up here in Asgard. He was not the one that planned and implemented the attack, it was his father. Yet he is the one that has to carry the consequences. And I believe that he placed a certain kind of trust into you. Loki might feel... you betrayed that trust. And that type of pain will not easily be forgotten. Not by such a proud creature.”

Thor huffed. “His pride is misplaced. I did my very best to save him from death. And all he does is insult me in return.”

Frigga laughed under her breath. “Oh, he would, wouldn't he? Darling, you know best that Loki was never an easy person to be around. His sharp tongue has claimed many victims in the past. Maybe you have to give him time to process everything that has happened.”

There was a long moment of silence. Frigga waited for Thor to gather his words. Finally he straightened, looked at his mother. “I have offered him the position as royal consort. He turned me down.”

He saw a little smile playing around Frigga lips. Then it vanished. 

Her voice was calm.“As I said, you might have to give him more time to make such an important decision.” She watched as Thor shook his head, hand clamping tightly on his goblet. “Or you will have to convince Loki that what you offer is the best that could happen to him in his position.” Frigga hummed thoughtfully. “It may be a good idea to give him a choice. A second option to becoming your consort. Give him the opportunity to come to you out of his own free will. I fear that otherwise he is always going to fight you. ”

Thor stared down at his goblet. Then he took another long drink, emptying the cup. “What choice would I offer him?”

Frigga refilled his cup. “That is not for me to decide. You need to think what else you are willing to give him, if he does not wish to be by your side. You could send him down into the dungeons. You could imprison him for the rest of his life. Or you could be merciful and send him back to Jötunheimr to live as a peasant, having his royal status revoked.”

Thor thought about the suggestion, brow furrowed in concentration. “If I offer any of these things, I fear that I will loose him for good. At this point I believe that he would choose anything instead of taking the title of consort.”

Frigga frowned slightly. “You can not force Loki to choose you. He would hate you until the end of your days. And, knowing the little Frost Giant, he would try to murder you in your sleep.”

Thor murmured. “He can't. Hǫrgrblóð spell binds his life to me, he would never be able to harm me.”

Frigga nodded. “Still. You do not want an unwilling consort, Thor, you are not that kind of man.” She squeezed his arm once more to underline her words. 

Thor turned towards her. “But what if he turns me down? What if he takes the second option, whatever it may be? I do not wish to lose him. I saved his life so he could spend it by my side.”

Frigga looked solemn, and she stroked her fingers over Thor's sunburned cheek, studying his face. “If he turns down your offer, then maybe it was not meant to be.” 

Thor squeezed his cup until he feared it would shatter. He took a deep breath. “I thank thee, mother, for your advice.”

“Of course, son.”

Thor stood abruptly, and left. 

He had to think.

x

 

The final battle of Svartálfheimr was upon Asgard. All the soldiers the realm could spare were gathering at the Bifröst, ready to travel into the dark, fiery realm. 

Thor shouted his last order, gave his final command. The golden troops were off. 

But the Thunderer could not leave. Not yet. 

 

X

 

Loki heard the familiar, heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs.  
He put the book he had been reading back onto the table and stood, waiting for Thor to unlock and open the door.

When the Thunderer stepped into his cell, Loki saw immediately that he was not in a gentle mood. He was dressed for battle, and the beginning of bloodlust was clearly visible in his darkened, stormy eyes. His face was a stoic mask, and the air around him crackled with electricity. 

Loki felt a pang of anxiety sharp in the pit of his stomach, and he stepped back.  
Fear that Thor could be here to take him by his word and rape him shortly before his next battle flashed through his head.  
Loki fisted his hands, took a wider stance. 

If that's what the Odinson was here for, he was not going down without a fight. 

The room around him darkened slightly. A quick glance through the glass ceiling showed that heavy rain clouds were rolling across the sky. 

Loki swallowed. 

When Thor spoke, his voice was hard, detached.  
“Loki. I am heading out to battle.” He stepped closer, and Loki willed himself not to back off, not to cower. The Thunderer spoke without emotion. “I am here to offer you a choice. You will have time to think about your answer until my return.”

Loki felt his mouth go dry. He nodded, indicating that he understood. 

“I am offering you two options. First: You are to be the royal consort.”  
Loki could not suppress a snarl. Of course. Leave it to Thor not to listen to a single word he had said during their last encounter. He felt his throat close up with anger, and he choked out his answer: “Never.” 

Thor raised his hand to silence him. Lightening was painting the lead-colored sky, bathing the room in brightness.“I shall speak. Listen to my proposal. You will have more than enough time to consider your answer.” 

Loki grit his teeth and stayed still. He was shaking with anger and impotent dread.

Thor continued.  
“You will officially be made my consort and take your place by my side in this court. In time you will take the position of the official peace-keeper of Jötunheimr. Then you will overview the current ruling, hold court and listen to your people, all under the jurisdiction of me or a representative of Asgard.”

Loki laughed out loud. It was a bitter, desperate sound. “You mean to make me a puppet on the throne, repeating your words during the day and spreading my legs for you at night? That is not going to happen. ”

Thunder cracked right over their heads, deafening.  
Loki closed his mouth.

“Call it as you may, I do not care. You will not take the throne, Loki.” Thor stood tall, lightening illuminating his dark eyes. “But our eldest child shall. He or she will be the next ruler of Jötunheimr.” 

Loki felt bile flood his mouth and he forced himself to swallow it down. It took all his strength not to ram his horns into the Thunderer's stomach once again. “You... ”He could hear his voice shaking with disgust and anger. “You mean not only to rape me but to breed me until I carry your spawn?”

He spat, right between Thor's feet.

The Thunderer did not answer, just stared at him with those dark eyes.  
He clearly waited for Loki to get himself under control, and the smaller Frost Giant dug his nails into the palm of his hand to steady himself. 

Loki took a deep breath. “What is my second option?”

Thor stared at him.

“Death.”

Loki blinked. 

“Death by beheading. Your soul shall be fed to Hǫrgrblóð, you shall face the fate I spared you from before. It is yours to choose, if you so wish.”

Now _that_ was unexpected.

Loki swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it. 

His voice was unnaturally calm when he answered, almost not audible over the noise of the thunderstorm raging above them. “You give me the choice of either being raped and bred or being executed? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Thor stared down at him. “I will give you time to think things over. I expect an answer when I return victoriously from Svartálfheimr.”

The door slammed shut, and the key turning was loud in Loki's ears, even over the raging thunderstorm.


	21. Life or Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Some warnings for this chapter apply: Heavy Angst (duh), non-con and description of violence, even though they are not real (you will get what I mean)
> 
> Sorry for the delay, but my beta actually has a life and I wanted her feedback first before I give you this chapter. Thanks to uluka for her patience and sticking with me through a monster of a fic, even though it managed to become much more involved than I had ever believed. 
> 
> I live for the kudos and comments, so obviously thank you all for those! I cherish them!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Life or Death.

Death or Life.

Loki's mind was churning the question over and over in his head, like a water wheel, never stopping, always moving.  
Always the same question.

Life or Death.

Death or Life.

He stopped eating the food that was delivered, watched as the guards placed it on the table and picked up the tray a couple of hours later. They threw glances at their prisoner who sat unmoving in a corner, staring out into space, but as Loki was drinking the water he was provided they left him in peace. 

Loki stopped washing himself.  
He simply stopped caring.

He just sat.  
Sat and watched the never-ending dance of the stars, watched as the suns and moons rose and fell above him. 

Life or Death.

Death or Life.

It was a ridiculous question, really. 

Death was final.  
The decision to die was one that could never be overturned, never regretted, never taken back.  
Of course it took away suffering and pain, eliminated anguish and misery.

But it also took the chance for things to ever get better. 

For life, no matter how bleak or disturbing it seemed, always held hope.  
Hope for things to change. For things to get better.  
Hope for revenge.  
Hope for freedom.

Loki shifted. He massaged his head, his skin clammy under his fingertips. 

At the moment life held many unsatisfying things in store for him.  
To be raped, bred and forced to bear Thor's children.  
To sit as a puppet on the throne of his dead father, despised by his own people. 

Loki closed his eyes. He opened them again as the suns went down. 

If he was honest, most of that had been coming for him all his life anyway.  
His father would have peddled him to a random Alpha. He would have had to bow his head and accept a thick-headed Warrior to be his mate. He would have been subjugated and bred, would have been beaten for speaking his mind and never been allowed to use his seiðr again. 

So to be Raped? Bred? Forced to bear someone's children?  
Nothing new. 

Still, he would have to bow his head to Thor.  
The son of his father's worst enemy.  
_His_ worst enemy. 

But his children would be sitting on the throne of Jötunheimr.  
They would be kings and princes.  
That was... good. 

Wasn't it?

So what if he was going to be a puppet? What if he was to be despised by the Frost Giants?  
The Jötnar had loathed him the moment they realized he was of the Mages caste anyway.  
Again, nothing would change.

Loki squirmed. 

Maybe, if he was clever and worked out a plan, he could turn all of this to his advantage.  
Maybe.  
Somehow.  
If the Jötnar did not love him, maybe they could learn to love his children.  
Maybe his offspring could change the future of the Icen realm.

Life always held hope. 

So the question was, why was it so very hard to make a decision?

Loki's body started to hurt from staying in the same position for so long, sitting on the cold stone floor, head bent. His stomach grumbled. 

The problem was, he was furious with Thor.  
Livid.  
He did not want to submit to someone who had betrayed him the way the Odinson had.  
He had been raped.  
By someone he once considered his best friend.

It made him furious.  
And disappointed.  
So much that it hurt his heart. 

He had trusted that oaf. 

Just before Loki left Asgard, his heart had picked up pace whenever he had seen the Odinson. Whenever he had heard the booming voice there had been a warm, churning feeling in his stomach. Whenever Thor had touched him he had felt like he was glowing, like he was walking on air. 

Loki had fallen in love.  
With his enemy. 

In the end, he really only was furious with himself. 

How could he have been this stupid?

He should have been more careful whom he trusted in Asgard.  
He should have kept his guard up.  
He should have never stopped believing in the deep-rooted hatred that Laufey and his Warriors had beaten into him the moment he could walk. 

He should have kept to himself. Hated in silence. And abided his time. 

Should have...  
Should have...  
Should have...

But no.  
Instead he turned out to be a soft-hearted, weak idiot.  
He had accepted Asgard as a second home.  
He had followed its customs and ways.

And he had fallen in love with its prince. 

And now it was all gone.  
Broken.  
Destroyed.  
Ruined by a war and tradition, a callous act planed by old men, and a prince who had not understood that sometimes standing up to his elders and speaking his mind was the best course of action.

Loki should never have placed any trust into those he knew would betray him. 

So really, he deserved everything that had happened to him. 

Loki whined, crawled to the table, thirstily drank some water. Then he crawled back to his spot, curling into himself. 

Now?  
Now he was no better than the meanest spoil of a common soldier.  
No matter what nice title Thor wanted to give it. 

He would be a slave.  
A whore.  
A thrall. 

Consort.

So here he was. 

A spoil of war.  
With a choice. 

Life or Death.

Death or Life.

It was such a hard decision even though it should be so very easy.

x

 

At night, when Loki could not keep himself from slipping into uneasy sleep, he was haunted by nightmares. Sometimes he woke up screaming, not sure why or how, the dreams fleeting things that slipped his mind the moment he woke.

But sometimes he remembered.

_He is bent over the Blood Altar, forced onto his stomach. His hands and legs are spread by heavy chains holding him down. He is lying in a thick pool of blood, and as he turns he sees a great pile of bodies, all Jötun, and an enormous, blank-faced Berserker who continues to cleave off their heads, one after the other. There is a long line out the door, and it seems never-ending._  
_Thor steps up behind him, tall and menacing, eyes dark, lightening crackling from his fingertips. He is naked, and his cock is jutting out between his legs, large and red._  
_“No.” Loki hears himself speak, as if from far away. Blood is flooding into his mouth and he sputters, tries to lift his head to breathe, but he cannot move. He is bound too tightly._  
_Thor steps up and slowly slides into his cunt without hesitation, sinking in deep until he is fully seated. Loki sobs, tries to speak, but no words come out of his mouth._  
_The Odinson ruts into him, setting a hard, unforgiving pace. He pulls out all the way and fucks back in brutally, and Loki wants to beg him to stop, but he can't._  
_The words won't come to him._  
_He had made his choice._  
_He wanted this._  
_He chose this._  
_And then he realizes that he is not chained, but that it is his choice that binds him._  
_Thor continues to thrust and Loki tries to lift his head as he drowns in the blood of his people, bound and beaten, and there is nothing he can do but lie there and take it._

Sometimes Loki wakes up screaming.  
Sometimes he wakes up drenched in sweat, shivering with dread.  
And sometimes he can hardly make it to the bathroom before he throws up bile, clogging his throat bitterly.

Many a night Loki tries to stay awake, staring at the stars in hope that they will distract him enough from slipping into nightmares.  
But one can resist sleep only for so long

His dreams never seem to change.  
They are always similar, always the same two that haunt him night in and night out. 

_He is lying on the Altar, chained onto his back, hands above his head._  
_He is all alone in a black room that swallows up everything around him, light, sound, everything. His stomach is swollen and large, bloated as if he was starving, but he is not, he is with child._  
_Frigga steps up to him and smiles sweetly and she tells him to push, and there is pain and blood gushing from between his legs. The birth takes an eternity, and Frigga just smiles at him until finally she pulls a babe from his womb. She turns it towards him and Loki sees that it is a tiny Thor, grinning down at him._  
_Frigga croons.“Very good, that was very good, Loki._ ”  
_She walks away, his child in her arms and he weeps for it._  
_Thor comes in, silently and climbs upon the altar, looking down upon him._  
_“One is not enough, Loki. It is not enough”_  
_And he moves above him and slides his cock deep inside him, moving in a hard rhythm until he spills._  
_Then he leaves._  
_Loki sobs and then he sees how his stomach vaults once more, growing bigger by the minute._  
_He screams as the second child is born, another blond, blue-eyed child, and this time when Thor comes back he begs him to stop, to let him go._  
_“But you need to give me an army, Loki. One for each of the men that died in Jötunheimr. One is not enough. It is never enough.”_  
_And he slides into him again and starts to thrust, blank eyes staring past him._  
_“Remember, Loki, you chose this.”_  
_Loki starts to scream and cannot stop._

When he wakes, tears are streaming down his face, drenching his pillow.  
He is shivering though he is not cold, and he is drenched in sweat. 

He wishes the nightmares would stop. 

They do not make his decision any easier. 

x

The days trickled by slowly.  
Boredom soon took over.  
There was no distraction from the turmoil in Loki's mind.

He kept deliberating the same questions, considering the same ideas and holding the same conversations in his head over and over, so often that they blended into onto another and left him empty and numb. 

A month went by.

And another.

Time seemed to stand still. 

Loki realized he had lost weight, and his skin was starting to stretch over his flesh and bones.  
He started to eat again, out of pure boredom. 

Loki washed himself, albeit reluctantly: smelling his own odor of desperation every time he moved was worse than being clean and still feeling dirty.  
And he always felt dirty.  
It could not be washed off, no matter how much he scrubbed.

Another month went by.

Loki wondered how long the war in Svartálfheimr would last, how often he would have to turn the same question over in his head again and again.

 

Life or Death.

Death or Life.

 

X

 

Five months. 

It took five months for Thor to return.

Loki had kept a tally by scratching small notches into the wall, crossing them out whenever a week passed. He had started after the third week and was more or less sure that he had the days right. Not that it mattered.  
Not really.  
But he hated the isolation.  
Always had.

One night the Bifröst started flashing, again and again, a road of light against the darkness of the universe. Loki watched, finally a distraction to his monotonous days.  
Two days later fireworks painted the canvas of the night sky in bright colors, red and yellows, green and blues. Loki lay back and watched the flowers of fire turn the night into a colorful spectacle. 

He was certain it was a sign for a victory of Asgard.  
It twisted a dark and heavy knot in his gut, for if Thor had survived, he would come talk to him soon.  
And Loki was still not sure about his answer. 

It was another two days before he heard faint but heavy booted steps make their way up the stairs, early in the morning. In a way, Loki was almost relieved.

The waiting time was over.

He stood slowly, facing the door.

Within a few minutes he heard the key slotted into the lock and turned, and then Thor stood in the door-way, his broad frame filling it out. He was sunburned and had a fresh scar on his forehead, just above his left eyebrow.  
He was wearing light armor, and it was clean and more of a decorative purpose than for fighting.  
His left arm was wrapped in a thick bandage, a spot of red blood soaking through. 

The Odinson looked tired. Worn.

Loki swallowed, hard.  
Thor returned his gaze for a moment, then he stepped into the small room and carefully closed the door behind him.

Loki felt unnaturally calm, almost heady. He was glad that the day had finally come, the day he had been dreading for for so long. Then the Odinson stepped up to him and all of the sudden he felt crowded, forcing himself not to step back or give way. 

There was silence for several heartbeats.  
Loki wondered if Thor was going to touch him.

The Thunderer spoke, voice low and rich. Familiar. “Loki....” Thor let his eyes roam over the Frost Giant's body, and he swallowed hard. “I am here for your answer, Loki.” He stared down at the slighter God, eyes unblinking. There was softness and desperation in those eyes, but also a resolution. Hardness. Weariness. 

Loki swallowed hard, but did not avert his eyes. It felt strange to speak after so many months by himself. “I have questions before I make my choice.”

Thor blinked, obviously unprepared for the answer, but after a short pause he nodded.  
“Of course. Ask.”

Ok then. 

Loki took a deep breath and stood taller, pushing his shoulders back.  
“As your consort, how often would you have me share your bed?”  
The Thunderer was clearly taken aback by the intimacy the questioning had straight away, but he steadied himself quickly. “That ... It would depend...” His eyes flicked around the room, now averting the red ones of his spoil. “If I am in Asgard I would think that a daily occurrence could be possible. Maybe ... maybe even more. Twice a day? I can not put a number ...” The Odinson nodded and stared down at him. His mouth was a sharp line. “Regularly.”

Loki nodded. Of course. It had been a stupid question, really. Thor was known for his prowess in the bedroom. He had heard the rumors.

Loki had anticipated the answer and did not let it upset him. 

“When would I get to return to Jötunheimr?”

Thor shifted.  
“You will be allowed to spend time helping to govern the kingdom after our first child is born. Of course you will live in Asgard as well, fulfilling your tasks as a consort. I would think a compromise will have to be found when the time has come. A compromise both parties can agree on.”

Which meant that Thor would have the final say. 

“Of course.” Loki cleared his throat, trying not to sneer. It was hard.

“How many children will I be expected to bear?” He could not forget the dreams, haunting his mind still. 

Thor was pushing his hand through his hear, clearly agitated by the continuing questioning. “At least one, the heir to the throne. After that officially nothing more would be expected of you. However...” the blue eyes roamed Loki's face”...if you agree... I would hope for at least 3 or 4 little ones.”

Loki nodded.  
Emotions and disgust bubbled up, and he kept a close lid on them.

He forced his voice to be even. “I see. And what kind of rights will I have as the official ruler when taking care of the throne for your heir?”

Thor grimaced. He was clearly past his level of agreement.  
Loki realized he had pushed too far.  
It was of no matter.  
The words the Thunderer spoke did not surprise. “Enough, Loki. No more questions. I believe the answers I gave you are sufficient and I am not here to haggle with you like a peasant women over a fish. You need to choose. Be my consort or accept Hǫrgrblóð.”

Loki swallowed, hard.

All of the sudden doubt flooded him. Thor was crowding him, radiating heat and overwhelming him with his sheer presence without even touching him. All of the sudden the rape and humiliation flooded Loki's mind, pictures he had been able to suppress for the sake of sanity, for making his own decision easier. 

But Thor was correct, of course.  
He was stalling.  
Loki could not suppress a shiver. 

He looked straight into Thor's eyes.  
Loki was proud how steady his voice was. “Life. I choose life. I shall be your … consort.” He choked out the last word as if it was a physical lump deep in his throat. 

He could see Thor's mask crumble and a look of relief wash over his features as he exhaled a deep breath. He stepped and swept his arms around the Jötun, giving him a tight squeeze.  
Then he let go and stepped back. “I am glad.” There was so much sincerity in his voice it was almost ridiculous.

Loki's reply was cool. “I'm sure you are.”

It had been hard not to flinch back from the touch, to snarl and scratch, to stop Thor from touching him. But that's what his life would be now. Restraint and lies. 

He kept his voice clear of emotions. “So now what? Are you going to fuck me?

Thor cringed and took a small step back as if Loki had physically slapped him in the face. He looked appalled. “No, of course not. That would be...”

“Rape?” Loki lost the fight against the sneer. He would have to try harder next time. 

Thor stared at him, bright spots burning on his cheeks, painting them crimson.  
He turned and stomped towards the door, pressing down the handle. 

“I am going to take you to your new chambers. They are right next to mine.”

Loki nodded, again. He felt like he could do little else. “Of course they are. Easy access. How convenient.”

Thor avoided his gaze, cleared his throat in a low rumble. “I shall take you there now.”

So fast.

Loki felt a little faint, but he pulled himself together. 

He nodded and stepped up to Thor.  
There was no need to take another look around the cell he had spent so much time in. There was nothing in here that belonged to him, or that he would miss, for that matter. 

Loki straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin before he followed Thor over the threshold, down the stairs.  
The descent felt like it lasted forever.  
When they finally reached the bottom, two guards were waiting for them, their eyes focusing on Thor expectantly. The Odinson shook his head and waved them away.  
Loki realized with a start that they probably would have taken him if his choice had been a different one. It made him feel slightly faint. He did look at them as he walked by, forcing his face into a mask and his walk to be regal, even if he felt even dirtier than he had before.

Loki had sold his body and soul.  
He knew it.  
They knew it. 

Loki followed Thor along the dark corridors of the prison, over uneven, plain floors until they reached a different wing, brighter and more inviting. They continued walking for a long while, their surroundings adorned rather beautifully, and Loki recognized the general areas of the court.  
Finally they arrived at a pair of golden, double doors that led to the royal wing.  
The entrance was guarded by two soldiers whose eyes flickered over Loki's form but did nothing more to acknowledge his presence.

Thor pushed the doors open, the entry enchanted to allow only the royal family and selected staff to enter, and Thor had to place his hands upon Loki's shoulder to allow him through. He crossed the threshold with a shudder.  
In the royal wing the walls were adorned with fine, silken tapestries and gold-inlaid mosaics even more precious than anywhere else in the castle, but the further they walked the more nauseous Loki felt. He kept his head down and tried to ignore the thick lump in his throat as he trailed behind Thor.  
Loki told himself that he was going to be fine.  
And he was trying to believe it too.  
Finally the Thunderer stopped in front of a golden door situated right next to a taller entrance to its left. He turned and waited for Loki to step up and then smiled before he turned the handle, pushing the door open.  
“Welcome to your new chambers, Loki.”

He stood back and indicated for the Frost Giant to step in.

Loki did.

His feet touched cool marble before sinking into thick, soft pelts of what he recognized to be ice-wolves. 

He raised his eyes.

The chamber was magnificent, just like he expected it to be. 

The room was relatively empty, embracing its wide open spaces, the color scheme kept in rich whites and different shades of light blue. The wall opposite of him was covered by windows from the floor all the way to the ceiling, opening the gaze over the entity of Asgard and the galaxy beyond it. It made the room seem larger than it actually was.  
The enormous bed (and of course it would be) facing the window was surprisingly empty, just thin, silky light blue sheets stretched over the large mattress, two thick pillows at the head-end. 

The tapestries on the walls were depictions of Jötunheimr, and it brought tears to Loki's eyes to see the Great Beasts and the Icen plains portrayed all around him. 

He swallowed around a thick clump in his throat, anger bubbling hot under his skin.  
How dare he.  
Loki fisted his hands and lifted his chin, fighting down his emotions.  
This was just another example of the mindless callousness the Odinson portrayed, again and again. Better to simply ignore it.  
He closed his eyes, counted to three, opened them again and continued inspecting his new rooms. 

To his right was a white lacquered writing desk, stacked with thick, cream-colored paper and an array of ink-stones, quills and sharpening tools. It was flanked by two large bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling, filled with a wide array of books and scrolls. Loki felt somewhat numb but he could not hold himself from stepping up to a shelf, letting his fingers glide over the uneven backs of the leather-bound books. He took a deep breath, scenting the calming odor of knowledge and wisdom. 

This.  
This smelled like the home Asgard had become for him.

Thor stepped up behind him, and Loki stiffened immediately as he sensed the heat wavering of the Odinson's body. But Thor didn't touch him. Instead he reached past Loki and pulled out a random book, a thick, beautifully illustrated volume of the folklore of Vanaheimr.  
“I was not sure which books you were familiar with already, but some of these have been especially brought in for you. And some are from the royal library. You did not have access to those before.”  
He pushed the book back into the empty space.  
There was a moment of silence in which Loki continued running his fingers over cracked backs, aware of the body behind him, not sure how to answer. 

Was he supposed to thank Thor for these? 

Loki waited for another awkward moment and then stepped away, continued inspecting the room. 

He wandered past a white sofa larger than the bed, covered with a wide array of pillows, letting his blue fingers run over the overly soft leather. There was a very long, low table in front of it, stacked with even more books.  
He heard Thor walk past him, towards a tapestry of a large, blue Icen waterfall. The Odinson pushed it to the side and turned a handle, opening the door hidden behind it. He smiled as he turned towards Loki. “These are the bathing chambers.” 

Loki followed his unspoken invitation and stepped into the second room. His naked feet moved from thick, soft furs onto cold, marbled floors.  
The room he walked into was enormous, much larger than even his old hostage-rooms. The windows were once again covering the entirety of one wall, bathing the room in sunlight. Right in the middle of the large space were two pools let into the floor, both large enough to hold six grown men, with several steps leading into the water. Loki was reluctantly astounded when Thor explained that one held warm and the other cold water, indicated by the intricate mosaic of blue and red spirals.  
The wall opposite the window was taken by an enormous wash basin, large enough for two or three people. It was framed by shelves that held an array of oils, lotions, soaps, sponges, brushes and powders in different colored glasses and bottles, sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight.

The wall behind the basin was covered from top to bottom with mirrored glass.  
Loki refused to look at himself.

There was the familiar white partition for the toilet in the corner. 

Loki nodded at Thor and walked out of the bathing area back into the main room, toes curling into soft pelts once more. 

He stopped and took a deep breath. 

So this was his new cell. 

Yes, it was far more luxurious than anywhere he ever resided in. Still, it would be the place where he would have to sleep with Thor, where he would have to learn to lie and pretend to love someone he didn't.

He still was a prisoner.  
But now his cage was shiny and golden. 

Thor stepped up behind him.  
Loki suppressed a shudder as he felt the heat rolling off him in waves, felt his hot breath on the back of his neck.  
Loki dug his fingernails into his palms and slowly turned around, facing Thor.  
The kiss they shared a long time ago flashed into his mind, how he had felt then and what a farce this new relationship really was. What Thor wanted he could never have, everything now was spoiled beyond repair. And Loki would have to pretend it wasn't so.  
After all, he chose life.  
He looked up into the light blue eyes and tried a tight, thin-lipped smile, pretty sure he failed spectacularly.

His voice sounded alien in his own ears. “This is ... nice.”

However, against all odds, Thor nodded, seemingly happy with his reaction. “I hoped you would like it. These rooms have been empty for a long while. Frigga was a great help in decorating, even though she did not approve of my choice of tapestries. But they are about your home, so I thought you would like them.” He looked very pleased with himself. 

Loki swallowed, shifted.  
Thor had asked his mother for advice. On how to decorate these rooms. Probably even before leaving for battle.  
He realized that Thor had hoped on him saying yes, to choose life.  
Counted on it, even.  
And then he had gone ahead and prepared the room, even though he could not have been sure of Loki's answer. 

Or had he been?  
Would the Odinson have brought him here even if he had chosen death?

The question hurt his head, so Loki dropped it. 

Thor did not notice the Jötun's inner turmoil.  
“You will receive new clothing appropriate for your standing. A seamstress will be in for your measurements later today. You will have a maid to help you with your dressing and toiletry in the morning, and you will have servants to call on if you ever lack anything. For the beginning you can take your meals in these rooms, but at one point you will join my side at official dinners as well as feasts as the royal consort.

Loki nodded, heat clawing in his stomach. He felt slightly nauseous.  
Not only would he have to take the Odinson into his bed, he would also be paraded around, like the spoil he was.

Loki swallowed, hard. Closed his eyes. Opened them again.  
It was of no matter.  
He slowly raised his hand, laying it on the golden torque around his throat.  
“What about this? Will you continue to bind me?”  
Thor's face fell, he looked apologetic.  
“I am sorry, Loki, but my answer still stands. I can't allow you access to your seiðr. Maybe one day, when you have proven yourself. But not now. Not yet.”

Loki felt numb.  
He would have to prove himself? How? How many children would he have to birth to be allowed to have his magic? To be trust-worthy?  
He grimaced.  
Then again, he was not trust-worthy. He knew, the moment the collar would be taken off him that he would flee. 

Children would bind him to Thor. 

The Odinson was less of an idiot that he thought.  
Fair enough.

Thor looked at him, calculating. 

Loki stood still, let's himself be scrutinized. 

Finally, when he could stand the gaze no more, slowly started to unlace his trousers. If this was going to happen, it may as well happen now.

With a sharp pull, his pants opened and slithered down his legs where they gathered at his feet.  
Loki did not avert his eyes from Thor's, red ones boring into deep blues, taking in Thor's look of dismay as he stared at Loki standing naked before him.  
“That's not how... no.” The Odinson shook his head resolutely, a hand coming up to cup Loki's chin.  
“No. Not today, Loki. You will need to refresh and take rest. I do not wish to force myself on you.”

Loki wanted to laugh out at the answer, wanted to tell Thor that he had rested for months already, that now was a good a time as any other.  
But the idea of having sex here and now paralyzed his tongue. 

So he stayed quiet. 

Thor leaned in and Loki forced himself not to flinch away as the Odinson pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. He gave a curt nod and stepped back, eyes still not dropping down but focusing on Loki's face, and then he turned and made his way towards the small door that connected this room to his own chambers.

“I will come back later to share dinner with you. If you have any questions you can knock, or call for the maid, whichever you prefer. I still have some meetings to attend to, but I shall return as soon as I am able to.”  
He gave another nod and then stepped through into his own rooms and quietly closed the doors behind him. 

Loki stood on soft pelts, naked.

He felt like a fool. 

He let's out a low laugh in the silent room, that sounded like a sob. 

There was no one to hear him.


	22. A new life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry that I missed an update last week. Here's the deal: I got one not-so-good comment, and that totally threw me off my game, made me question my whole direction, made me rewrite a whole lot of stuff. Now I think I am giving a bit more background than I have before, but that also means porn is about 2-3 chapters off. Otherwise you would have gotten it today. Blame it on the negative-Nancy.  
> Don't get me wrong, each and every comment I get I cherish. They give me new insights into things I might not have considered before. I love reading how much you are angry at Thor or are sorry for Loki or think Frigga is a bad person. It gives me new angles and that's amazing. But if you want to tell me how much you dislike the story or think I am a bad human being...don't. Just don't. That shit does not help anybody. Otherwise, please fire away. 
> 
> Also: I went to the Premier of Crimson Peak in Berlin this week and TOM HIDDLESTON WAS THERE! LIKE FOR REAL! I sat three rows away and I could have tackled him, and he IS A REAL PERSON! I melted into a puddle in the cinema and cried like a baby and I am still fangirling so hard it is not even funny. Though it kind of is. Also it made me 200% more happy. So Tom Hiddleston is not only a great inspiration but also an instant anti-depressant.  
> Good to know. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks to uluka, my amazing and patient beta. 
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Loki woke the next morning to a new world, a new life. 

He slowly sat up, hands running over soft silken sheets beneath him, the whole of Asgard spread out outside the window at his feet. There was one thing to say about this new cage: at least it was as luxurious as it could get. Loki turned and pressed his hands against his eyes, rubbing them until he saw stars twirling in front of him. 

No matter how pleasant or pretty it was, it was still a cage.   
And he was still a prisoner.

Loki twisted and turned, and slowly sat up. 

His old life had been lonely and filled with dread of what each coming day would bring.  
This still held true, maybe even more so than before.

For now Loki did not only fear rape, but the loss of his self, his mind, his soul.

He climbed out of the enormous bed, padding naked to his new bathing chambers. The sun streamed into the white-tiled room, dipping it in sunlight. Slowly Loki walked towards the blue-hued, cool pool and carefully stuck his toes inside. 

Oh.   
That was nice.   
Cold and refreshing. 

Carefully he stepped down into the water, relishing how it caressed his body, slithering around him like silk. After months of having to use a bucket to wash himself, this was certainly an improvement.   
The pool was big enough to hold many men and Loki lay back and let the water carry him, staring up against the white ceiling. His black hair fanned out around him, like black tendrils, the water lapping lazily at his stomach and legs, covering his arms, horns and most of his throat. 

Loki closed his eyes. 

Here he was. 

A new day.   
A new life. 

And what a mess it was. 

He took a deep breath and sunk down into the cool water, relishing how the wetness washed over his features and then fully surrounded him, pulling him under. He hung suspended, floating freely as if flying, and opened his eyes. When he parted his lips he could see bubbles rising to the surface, precious air leaving his lungs. 

He waited for a couple of moments until his body burned with the lack of oxygen, then came back up, gasping. 

Slowly Loki rubbed a hand over his face.

It was clear to him that he would have to think of a strategy on how he was going to survive … _this_.   
The farce his life had become.

This had been his choice.   
To be a consort.   
To bow his head for a chance of hope.   
To spread his legs in exchange for a future. 

A future for himself.   
A future, maybe, for Jötunheimr. 

Loki sat down on the bench that was let in the pool, staring out into the galaxy. 

The question now was fairly simple: _how_ was he going to get through this?  
Clearly becoming a consort entailed that he would have to behave a certain way.   
Thor would not welcome Loki's hatred and anger washing towards him every time he saw him.   
That was not something that being a consort entailed. 

That, at least, Loki was pretty sure of. 

But then again, what did his new standing mean, really?  
How was he supposed to act?  
What was out of bounds?

And what were his rights?

Was Thor assuming he would turn into a sweet, docile Ergi, who smiled and nodded, but kept his mouth shut?

Surely not?

But... what if?

Loki turned, watching as the clear water splashed against white tiles. 

The questions swirled through his head.

So many uncertainties.  
So much confusion.

Loki reached for one of the many bottles filled with soaps that were fastened along the side of the pool. He inspected the different colored liquids, pulled out corks, sniffing the different aromas absent-mindedly. 

He could, of course, simply ask Thor.   
Loki swallowed.   
That was, of course, if the Odinson gave him _time_ to ask questions the next he saw him. Thor might just as well lay his claim on his consort the moment he walked through the door.   
Nausea flooded through Loki and he lowered his head, taking a deep breath. And another.   
It took him a long moment to get a hold of himself, to swallow down his fear. 

 

Thor would not be that callous. 

Loki snorted.

But he might just as well be. 

Loki slowly slipped lower into the water, his hand reaching out for a random bottle of soap. He plucked it from the stand and poured the viscous, pink liquid into his hands, carefully lathering the mixture into his hair. It smelled faintly of herbs, of fresh-cut grass and summer winds, and Loki closed his eyes as he slowly massaged his head. 

He needed a plan.  
A strategy on how to survive this mess his life had become.

 

X

 

Loki broke fast rather late that day, a thick clump of dread clogging his throat, ruining his appetite. Breakfast had been laid out for him while he was taking a bath, and it was ample. Sweet bread and thinly sliced fruit, cold meats and cheeses, warm tea and juice. The variety alone was more than he had been allowed to eat for a long while, and he nibbled on some of the bites. Yet his stomach was a big knot of anxiety, and Loki realized that, as nice as the food was, the dread of Thor coming in any moment and demanding the rights to his spoil made him want to vomit. 

So he abandoned the food and tried to occupy himself, to keep his mind off things. 

Loki walked around the room, pulled a book from the shelf, browsed through it, placed it back.   
He paced along the window, sat on one of the many soft pillows to stare outside, got back up, paced again.

He had waited for so many months in isolation, and now that the day he dreaded had finally come, the suspense was choking him. 

The hours passed and Thor did not show. 

Just after lunchtime there was a soft knock on his door and Loki flinched and stilled his restless striding, frozen in place. For a moment anxiety held his tongue, but he quickly regained his composure, and he straightened his shoulders, throwing his head back.   
He could do this. 

“Come in.”

The door was opened by a small, mousey maid with large, brown eyes carrying a lunch tray.   
She gave Loki a small nod, her eyes gliding over his body with hidden interest. 

“Good day, Lord Loki. I am here to bring you your lunch.”  
Slowly she shuffled to the small table in front of the sofa where most of the breakfast was still uneaten.   
Loki was slightly taken aback by her use of the title, but he did not let it show. He nodded and watched as she placed the food down, looking at his uneaten breakfast. However she did not comment, and swept away the few crumbs he had dropped, gathering them in her apron.

She stood and looked at Loki with bright, intelligent eyes. “Lord Thor has asked me to inform you that he will not be able to attend to you for a couple of days. I have the order to make you as comfortable as possible in the meantime. Please let me know if you are in need of anything, extra blankets or a special food or drink. I am to bring you whatever you wish...“

The 'within reason' was left unspoken, but Loki understood. He nodded thoughtfully, realizing that if was going to have _days_ to kill with his unease, he might as well use the time wisely.   
He cleared his throat. “There are a couple of books I would like to request.”

The maid nodded resolutely, her eyes flicking to the fully stocked shelf leaning against the wall.   
“Lord Thor has instructed that if you wish to visit the library or the royal gardens, your guard shall take you there.”

“My guard...” Loki echoed her words. 

The maid nodded once again, kneading her apron with her fingers. “Yes, my Lord. Sweyn is positioned outside your chambers. He has orders to take you anywhere you want to go, whenever you want. However, you are not leave the royal wing.”

Loki swallowed, head spinning with the information. He realized that the maid was watching him carefully, and he nodded.“I understand. Thank you.”

The maid gave another resolute nod and leaned down to pick up the breakfast tray. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my Lord? Any foods or drinks I can get you?”

Loki shook his head. “No, I am fine. Thank you. You may go.”

She gave a courtesy and left.

The moment the doors closed Loki sat on the sofa with a heavy thud, digging his head between his hands. 

So Thor was too busy to attend to him. 

That was good. 

The heavy weight that had been sitting on his shoulders and on his chest, taking his breath away, was lifted. But this meant that the questions that had been haunting him would not be answered any time soon. 

And they burned inside of him, branded his heart, drummed a steady tattoo inside his head. 

Loki massaged his temples for a moment and then he stood, resolutely. 

If Thor would not answer his questions for now, he knew what else he could do to hopefully attain some sort of clarity. 

He needed to go to the library. 

 

X

 

Loki took a brief moment to have a quick bite to eat, not tasting the food that had been brought to him. Then he stood in front of the exit door, his fingers wavering over the handle that would lead him outside his chambers. Anxiety was gnawing viciously at his intestines. Stepping outside, he realized, would demand a lot of courage, for the prospect was daunting beyond belief. 

Loki was sure that by now almost everyone in the castle had heard the tale of the Odinson and the Frost Giant. The story of the aloof Icen prince that used to walk among the peace-hostages, once so high and mighty, who had been bound and broken and was now forced to warm Thor's bed against his will. 

The Thunderer's new whore. 

Everyone would know.   
Everyone. 

Loki pressed his head against the lacquered wood, feeling its slick surface under his fingers.   
He took a deep breath.  
And another. 

He could do this. 

Let them sneer and whisper behind his back, let them laugh and point. 

He reminded himself that this was nothing new. 

Loki pushed himself back up. He deliberately straightened his shoulders, fingers ghosting over the golden torque that identified him as the slave he was. He clawed at it for a moment, then dropped his hands. 

He was a prince.   
A Jötun prince of the Icen Realm, and no matter what they would throw at him, he could take it. 

Taking another deep, grounding breath, Loki pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway. He turned towards the guard standing outside, just like the maid had said. Sweyn was a tall, blond Asgardian with a blank face, whose light blue eyes slipped over him, not revealing any emotions. 

“I wish for you to take me to the royal library.” The guard just stared at him and Loki pushed his chin up, his voice a low snarl. “Now.”

Sweyn gave a curt nod and turned to lead the way. Loki followed him along the long, heavily decorated corridors.. 

In the end it was surprisingly easy to ignore everyone around him, walking as if he ruled the world, an arrogant sneer on his face. 

Because he was Loki of Jötunheimr. 

And no petty Asgardian was going to change that. 

 

X

Loki followed Sweyn down the hallways, turned corner after corner behind him, until they finally stopped in front of a tall door. The entrance to the library was lined with two thick columns, carved with vines and animals depicting wisdom; owls, foxes, wolves, cats. 

Loki pushed it open and stepped inside. 

The royal library, it turned out, was at least the same size as the one in the hostage wing, if not bigger. The view immediately brought back memories, reminded him why he loved being among books.  
The odor of decay and wisdom.   
The golden flecks of dust dancing in the sun.  
The heavy silence of a quiet, hushed room. 

The librarian had come out from behind a long shelf and stared at Loki with an open mouth once she saw him. Her gaze flicked over to Sweyn, who gave her a quick nod, before she looked back at the Frost Giant in front of her, unable to tear her eyes away from his torque or his blue skin. 

Loki snorted and planted his feet hard into the ground, lifting his chin.   
“I need you to find me books with information on consorts.”

She blanched slightly, her eyes searching the guards face again, who in turn stayed silent. However she quickly regained her composure “Consorts?” 

Loki gave her a hard, unforgiving stare. “Consorts. C. O. N. S. O. R. T. S. Do you understand?” 

She took a deep breath, then gave an abrupt nod. “Of course. Anything in particular?”

“I want books on their standing in the realms. I want historical texts and biographies. Bring me anything you can find on customs, practices, rules whatever there is on the subject. I don't care which realm the book is from or how old it is. Just bring me whatever you have.”

The librarian shared another stolen glance with Sweyn, and Loki felt a hot stab of indignation when he gave her another, subtle nod. 

However she said nothing else, simply pointed Loki towards a desk right beside another enormous window. Then she quietly scuttled off to fulfill his demands. Loki took a seat, eyes still roaming the treasures of infinite wisdom around him as Sweyn took a wide stance in a corner and settled, hand on his sword.   
It took a good while until the librarian arrived with the first books, placing them carefully on the table in front of Loki. 

And then he began to read.

 

x

 

_From the book: Vanaheimr_  
By Hraerek Steinson   
Outtakes from Chapter 7, Family and Standing 

_A consort is a person who is formally associated with a ruler, or an individual of noble standing through a special, mostly sexual relationship. This relationship can vary greatly between couples, but it is commonly accepted that there is a respect or admiration between the consort and his or her partner. The main reason that a lord or a lady has a consort is for support and inspiration. They are added to a household or family when a high-standing member of society feels the need for additional companionship outside the marriage-vows. There is a level of behavior that comes along in the relationship, which entails honor, dignity, trust and respect....”_

 

Loki snorted closed the book with a loud thud, rubbing the bridge of his nose.   
He opened another.

 

_From the book: Asgard - Traditions, Folklore, Customs_  
By Kormak Sigfastrson   
Experts from chapter 4 

_A consort is a life-partner of sorts, engaging in medium-to-long-term companionship, sometimes primarily for a monetary stipend, sometimes for love, and sometimes for mutual political gain: each member of a pair that contains a consort is getting something substantial and semi-permanent out of the relationship. It builds future value (political, dynastic, etc), however it does not hold the same standing a marriage would._

 

Yeah. That much was clear.   
Loki carefully placed the text on his growing pile of read books, pushing it away.   
Next. 

 

_From the book: Magic and Forests, Life and Death, a Portrait in Álfheimr_  
By Hall Caew  
Excerpts from Chapter 5, The Ultimate Other. 

_The consort is the ultimate other. We learn at the deepest levels that we are never one alone but always two-by-two, always in connection, always in the love relationship with all that is; magic and seiðr flows through us, connecting the worlds and each being with each other in a cosmic understanding. Therein lies our life and our realization. Through being in connection with these others, we are inspired, we love, and we open. Through the practice of taking the consort as representing the sacred totality of the universe, we learn to love more deeply than we ever imagined possible: first the consort, then everything that is..._

 

Ugh. 

Loki closed the book with a hard smack, dust twirling around him, making him sneeze. Leave it to the Light Elves to get sappy and romantic about the description of what a consort was. He was pretty sure that Thor was not looking for a mental connection that would open him to the universe. 

Next.

 

_From the book: The Institution of Polygamy in the Chinese Imperial Palace_  
By Sun Yun  
Experts from Chapter 2 

_The consort, or concubine, was often a woman connected to a ruler or elite member of society. They normally served a dual purpose – to increase a man’s prestige through his capacity to produce children and, of course, limitless opportunities to indulge in sexual desires.  
Consorts or concubines were often of lower social status, like a slave or a commoner, which was an obstacle to marriage with the ruler that they served. Therefore she had no official political power and was not allowed to hold the throne legally after his death. Furthermore she is was not entitled to rule her country by birthright. Usually the life of a consort entailed simply to fulfill sexual desires, take care of her children's welfare and, rarely, help with political rights of the underprivileged. _

 

And on and on it went.

 

Finally Loki carefully closed the book he had been reading, looking down at the pile that he had still not started on. 

He was by now surrounded by many volumes, the librarian having continued her search during the course of the day.

The suns were starting to set.   
His stomach was rumbling. He rubbed his eyes, feeling tired and weary. 

Slowly Loki stood, patting dust off his pants. Sweyn was still watching over him, seemingly not having moved a muscle as the hours passed. 

The librarian came from around a corner, looked at him expectantly. 

Worn out, Loki nodded at her. “Thank you for your help. I believe I shall be back tomorrow. ”

She nodded. 

Loki quietly followed the guard as they made their way back to his chambers. 

 

X

Loki spent the next couple of days in the library He was there from sunrise to sunset, taking breaks only to have lunch before returning to the dusty, yet comforting space. 

Sexual relationship. Companionship. Mutual political gain. Prestige.

Children.

No matter what realm, no matter what era, when reading about consorts these words kept coming up, again and again. Of course the texts varied between the lands, like the general rights or political standing of the consort, ranging from anywhere between nothing more than a slave to the possibility of becoming second to a queen or king. Some books pondered on the necessity of a loving relationship. Most wrote that, when compared to a spoil, a consort was to be respected and honored, by the partner and the surrounding people alike. 

But in one thing they all agreed.   
A consort was the means for sexual release and for producing children. 

No more. No less. 

 

After the third day of turning page after page, volume for volume, Loki closed the last book and stood. There was a still rather substantial pile of texts sitting next to him.

The librarian, while slightly annoying, was surprisingly good at her job. 

But Loki was done. He had read enough.

His newly acquired wisdom would not change the vow he had made, the path he had chosen.  
But now he could figure out how to approach his new life. 

Loki thanked the librarian and slowly made his way back to his chambers. His fingers were curling around the sheets of paper filled with notes on what he was and what he had to keep in mind for the future. 

When he was back in his rooms he took a long bath. Then he sat by the large window, a cool breeze caressing his skin as he went over his notes, again and again. 

Loki had exchanged his life for his compliance.   
In the end he had willingly made a bargain with Thor.   
An agreement that he would be spared from death, and in return give the Odinson what he wanted.   
It was a contract, of sorts.   
And the rules were as follows: sexual obedience, respect, dignity, to become a good mother to Thor's children.

Loki realized he had been right all along.   
He would have to bow his head, be sweet and understanding, a whore and a saint, all in one. 

Loki stared at his notes, unable to suppress a hysterical giggle.   
Him, sweet and understanding? Demure and obedient?  
When that oaf made him want to lash out the moment he stepped into the room?

He was not even sure if he could _do_ these things.  
But that's what he had traded for.   
In the end, his life depended on it. 

Loki let his eyes roam out of the window, over the glittering towers of the capital, out into space. 

Really, he could have had a worse fate.   
He could have been made a slave to a common man, raped by more soldiers, kept in the dungeons. He could have been tortured even more than just having his seiðr taken from him.   
His soul could have been fed to Hǫrgrblóð, so he would serve Thor and his ancestors for all eternity in Valhalla. 

He could survive this. 

He just needed a strategy. 

He would have to give up who he was.   
Slip into another skin.   
Deny his own feelings and wishes, focus on Thor as if it mattered to him what he wanted. 

He had to become a lie-smith. 

Loki stared out the window, lost in thought. 

He was pretty sure he could do that. 

And the worst Thor could do was to kill him. 

 

X

 

Thor was incredibly busy. 

So many things had happened in the days since Loki had accepted becoming his consort.   
So many things, and all of them left him weary, exhausted and drained.  
And still he had to keep his composure and calm. 

For only a couple of days ago the mighty Odin had fallen into Odinsleep.

During the last, grand battle against the Dark Elves, the Allfather had been injured. A poisoned arrow had dug deep into his arm and he had been transported back to the healing chambers immediately. There Odin had stayed, Frigga never leaving his side. He had started his slow recovery while Thor went on winning the war. When his son returned victoriously, Odin took a turn for the better. However, just a couple of days later, when Thor escorted his Frost Giant consort to his new chambers, the Allfather had unexpectedly slipped into a deep sleep that no one understood, no one knew when he would wake from. 

And now Thor was the new king-in-waiting.

Since that day he had hardly had any time to eat or sleep, for he had taken over the throne in Odin's stead. 

And after winning two wars, there was much to be done.

The punishment of the Dark Elves had to be overseen, peace talks with the new rulers of Svartálfheimr had started and needed to continue. Jötunheimr had settled under its new administrations, albeit reluctantly, and there were still many rules and regulations to be set in place. Thor, as the new official ruler of the Icen realm, had to discuss and confirm all guidelines and potential issues with the new consul. 

In the meantime the other realms had sent ambassadors to voice their amity towards the new king-in-waiting and confirm the friendships. It was a obvious that many came intimidated by the fearsome demonstration of strength Asgard had given during the recent wars waged against Laufey and Malekith.

Thor had to meet all of them, shake hands, accept gifts.

On top of all of everything, he had to govern Asgard.

There was so much to do, and Thor felt himself tire more and more, grow weary and exhausted. 

More than eight days passed before he finally had a moment to himself, to sit and breathe, to escape the madness that was his court. However, instead of retreating straight to his own chambers for a long, peaceful sleep, his feet stopped in front of Loki's room. 

It was just before sundown, the setting suns painting the sky a brilliant, dark orange. 

Thor stepped up to the lacquered door where he had left his consort more than a week ago, and offered a nod to the guard. Then he raised his hand and gave a hard, long rap against the old wood.   
.  
There was a moment of silence, then Loki's voice, quiet through the barrier between them. “Come in.”

Thor opened the door.

Loki had risen, was now standing in the middle of his room, obviously just having started dinner. Thor could see the Frost Giant's whole body tense when he saw him, then a flash of anger mixed with a hint of fear wash over his features before they were wiped clean. 

Thor swallowed. 

He knew, of course, that Loki had not been happy with the choice that he had offered him.

Frigga had tried to explain to him why that was, and he had had enough time to ponder the issue in the many months he had spent at war. Thor had tried to imagine himself in Loki's position, just like his mother suggested, but he could not.   
He was not argr.   
He was the Odinson, the strongest God with the mightiest weapon, king-in-waiting of the most powerful of all the realms.   
But Loki was weak. And a dark future had been waiting for him in his own realm.   
So it was hard for Thor to understand why becoming his consort was such a sour prospect. 

But one thing he knew for sure. The relationship they once had had was damaged, though, he hoped, not broken beyond repair. Frigga had told him to offer Loki time, time to heal, time to realize that Thor had acted only according to the traditions of his forefathers. 

His eyes wandered up and down Loki's still form, taking in the slight shiver, the wide-blown pupils, the way his toes curled into the carpet as the Frost Giant stared back at him.   
Thor was confident that Loki wished he could murder him, right here and now, preferably in a slow, agonizingly painful way, if his glares of anger and animosity were anything to go by. 

However, right at this very moment, that did not matter. 

Loki was _alive._

He was living, breathing, his heart was pounding.

Thor smiled.   
Before he had opened the door, he had been worn and exhausted, drained of all energy, irritated by the constant requests people had thrown at him. Now, facing Loki, his consort, his lover-to-be all of that was wiped away and he was filled with a warm glow of genuine happiness.   
Thor's voice was soft. “Loki. It is good to see you. May I come in?”

He saw how the red eyes shuttered closed for a moment, before they opened again, glaring back at him. He could see that Loki struggled with keeping his calm, and he waited patiently until the other gave a slow nod, voice piercing and cold. “Of course. Come in, _my Lord._ ”

There was a bite in the words. That was to be expected. 

Thor stepped inside, heart aching when Loki tensed once again as he came closer. When he leaned in to press a soft kiss against the cool forehead, he could see the suppressed flinch, felt the shivers of the Frost Giant under his lips. 

It was sad. 

Thor stepped back, eyes flicking over Loki. He was tense and obviously apprehensive, but he looked well. Healthy. There was suppressed hatred spraying from the Frost Giant's eyes, but he did not voice his anger.   
At least not yet.   
But the Odinson knew of that vicious tongue, and he expected it to lash out at him soon. 

Thor had a look around, seeing that Loki had just started his dinner. “Would you mind if I called for some food as well? I would like to sit with you, if that is acceptable?” 

Loki shrugged. “Whatever you wish.” And he watched with narrow eyes as Thor tugged at the bell-pull, calling for a maid. 

The dinner was brought quickly, and Thor sat down with a heavy sigh on the large couch, feeling the load of the last days finally rolling off his shoulders. 

Good food, nice surroundings, now all he wished for was good conversation.

However, talking to Loki turned out to be immensely difficult.

That should not have come as a surprise. 

The Frost Giant continued to glower at him, and answered his questions with one-syllable words or murmured phrases that lacked in depth or intellect. He hid his emotions behind an expressionless mask as he picked at his food, avoiding the Thunderer's eyes; but his fingers were clenched around his cutlery and there was a quivering muscle along his neck.

It was fine. 

As Loki was not up for a conversation, Thor simply started talking.   
He rambled about insignificant things; epic hunts he used to go on, funny stories and legends his mother used to to tell him as a child, his many trips to Midgard. Anything and everything that did not involve politics.  
Loki sat opposite him, feigning indifference, staring at his food as Thor talked and talked, never adding his opinion, never uttering a word. 

Thor talked for what felt like hours, the day outside slowly melting into night, stars glittering on its black canvas. 

He finished his meal, and for a long moment they sat in silence, the king-in-waiting and his consort, staring at each other.   
Finally Loki lowered his gaze, swallowed.  
Thor noted that he had hardly eaten.

He stood slowly, wincing when Loki cowered for a moment. Then the Jötun raised his head and stood as well, glaring a challenge at him. Clearly he was expecting Thor to take him to bed, right now. And the fear of that shone brightly in his eyes. 

Fear of him. 

It clenched Thor's heart painfully. 

He did not want Loki to fear him. 

He wanted what they once had.   
Light conversations. Easy bantering. To be the target of the snarky attacks of a sharp tongue.

Thor knew they were a long way away from having that again.   
And if he took Loki to bed now, he would lose even the hope of regaining his trust.   
But maybe, just maybe, if he gave his consort the time he needed, he would come to understand the position Thor had been in, come to terms with the choice he had made. 

He stepped up to Loki and when the other closed his eyes, he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on his mouth. He ignored the expression of unease on his consort's face, and for a few seconds relished in the soft lips of his spoil. 

Then he left. 

For now he was not going to touch Loki any further than that. 

In a way he did not dare to.


	23. Some good advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Bless you all for your continuous and enthusiastic comments, they make my days / week!  
> While I am taking a slight detour with the story-line at the moment, the general idea and the basis of the tale did not change, which is good. Cause I am not going to rewrite everything I have, because I believe it is actually good and worth reading / writing. And as of the next chapter we are more or less back on track.
> 
> This week my beta actually has a life and no time to check for mistakes, I am sorry about my use of grammar in any way. Now enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> x

Thor set up a routine, visiting his consort on a daily basis, always in the mornings to break fast with him and every second or third day for dinner.  
He was still extremely busy, but if he could steal some time for himself, he would spend it with Loki. 

To Loki's reluctant surprise, Thor did not touch him.

Instead he treated him like a valued guest, always knocking before entering his chambers instead of simply barging in, as it would have been his right. The only intimacy he demanded was a light kiss on the lips, every time he entered and every time he left. 

And, whenever the Odinson showed up in his consorts chamber, he would take care to bring something for him, sweets or delicacies from other realms, a rare book, a shiny bauble. 

Loki always accepted them with a blank face, his eyes not meeting the blue ones of the Thunderer, and he always placed them on a small table next to the door.  
And there they would sit until the sweets started to spoil and the trinkets gathered dust. 

Apart from the books.  
Loki always kept the books. 

Thor believed that was a good start. 

 

X

 

Three weeks after Loki had moved into his new rooms that there was a loud knock on the door. The Frost Giant tensed as he did every time when this happened, and it took him a moment to straighten his shoulders and get his features under control before he opened. 

Thor was standing outside, enormous grin on his face. 

Loki forced himself to relax and moved aside as the Odinson strolled in. He was followed by a couple of servants carrying a square table, a pair of intricately carved chairs and a large wooden box. They stepped into the room, eyes expectantly on Thor.  
The Thunderer waved his hand. “Put it wherever there is space.”

Loki watched in silence as the servants carried the things towards the window. He could not hold back his low growl. “Not there.” Thor's head shot around, starring at him. Then his eyes crinkled at the corner, paired with a large smile. “Apologies. I forgot you like sitting at the window.” He turned back to the sweating servants. “Place it over here.” He pointed to an empty spot at the wall, close to the door. 

Thor turned towards Loki again. “Is that all right? Or will it be in your way?” 

Loki shook his head, shrugged his shoulders. He chastised himself already for not staying quiet, but he _did_ like sitting at the window, contemplating his fate while looking at the stars, and did not want...whatever that was blocking his view. 

Thor waited for the table and chairs to be set down and the servants to bow and leave. 

When they were alone he turned towards Loki, beaming. 

“The Light Elves brought me a gift. This game is called Mār, which means worlds in their Olden Language. A single game can last for days and even weeks. And as you stopped speaking to me...” Thor grinned as Loki's eyes flicked up to his face, “...I thought we could spend our evenings playing a game instead. I kind of get bored listening to my own voice.”

Loki felt heat flush his cheeks at the snub, but he took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders.  
Whatever Thor wanted, he would do.  
That was the deal, after all.  
And if that meant he would have to play some idiotic game to make the Odinson happy, it was still better than the alternative. Which was either sitting through Thor long-winded stories about how he killed things in different realms or … taking him to his bed. 

Loki watched with half-lidded eyes as Thor placed the wooden box on the table and carefully opened it. His gaze wandered over the board set in the surface of the table, a detailed work of different types of woods inlayed to form patterns in different shades of browns, gold, pinks and whites. The picture it painted was that of a complete world, a landmass surrounded by a light and dark ocean, peppered with forests and waterfalls, cities and deserts.  
Thor pulled out the game pieces from the box, intricately carved figurines depicting different kinds of animals. Loki could not suppress his curiosity and stepped to the table, carefully picking up a white hare dressed in Elven clothing. It was also finely inlaid and carved with expectational expertise, each hair worked out in a astounding task of workmanship. He watched as Thor placed the animals all over the board, lions and deers, snakes and horses, cats and beasts Loki had no name for. Each was a work of art. 

Thor's brow was furrowed in concentration as his hands flew over the board, setting all the pieces where they had to go. “I thought we could play it in the evenings. Only if you want to, of course. I mean, we have time after all, and I am sure you would appreciate the amount of strategy and thought that has to be put into every move. It's quite entertaining once you get the hang of it.” He grinned as he finished, closing the box. “So what do you say, Loki? Do you want to learn it?”  
Loki shrugged his shoulders. He did not raise his eyes, hands gliding over the soft wood of the table. “Whatever you wish.”

Thor snorted at the answer that Loki kept repeating, again and again. 

But it did not matter.  
Everything was fine as long as Loki was alive.

Each of them had their own mantra.

And the answer was better than an outright refusal, after all. “Fantastic. I have to go back to a meeting, but we can start after dinner tonight.”

Loki nodded and accepted the chaste kiss he was offered. 

That night, during dinner, Thor was prattling on as usual, this time about some green monster he called his friend, while Loki pointedly ignored him. When they were done they sat down opposite each other at the board game, the Odinson grinning widely as if he had already won. 

It turned out Thor was a surprisingly good teacher when it did not come to hitting someone with a sword. He was patient, using precise, short sentences and clear words that made actual sense, and soon Loki was mesmerized against his will by the well-thought through strategy the game demanded.  
He lost within a couple of hours, but the first time left him wanting more, gave him ideas on how to do better for the next round. 

And, to his surprise, Loki almost looked forward to the next game. 

 

x

 

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks into months. 

And Thor did not touch Loki. 

And Loki, very slowly, relaxed.  
He stopped jumping every time someone knocked at his door and ceased cowering whenever Thor stepped too close to him, invading his personal space just to give him a chaste kiss. And the nightmares that haunted him night in and night out, woke him gasping and drenched in sweat, became less frequent.  
His defense was still up, and he still expected for the Odinson to demand him to join his bed at any moment, to order him to finally give him what he had paid for. 

But it did not happen, and even though Loki wondered about the reason, he did not question it. 

He was just happy that he was not going to be raped on a nightly basis. 

Everything else seemed insignificant next to that. 

 

X

 

Another month went by.

And another.

It was the morning of a bright day and Loki had stayed in bed for a long while after it dawned, staring out his window. It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed these days. There was nothing for him to do.

He had no purpose but to wait for Thor, day in, day out. And the Odinson, somewhat to Loki's relief, was still rather busy as he found his footing as the ruler of the realm. It left him little time to spend with his consort, which meant that Loki had to somehow kill time by himself. 

And reading books held his interest only for so long.

Loki did not turn at the low knock on the door by the maid, ignoring her as she sauntered in carrying his breakfast tray. He let out a low sigh as she stepped up to his bed, turning his head to glare at her. 

“Good morning, my Lord.” She was smiling at him.  
He did not want to be smiled at.  
Loki did not reply, giving her a hard glance, then focusing back out the window. 

The maid, already used to the cold demeanor of the royal consort, continued. “My Lord, Lady Frigga asks you to join her in the gardens as soon as you are available. Sweyn will take you there when you are ready.” She nodded at him and turned to leave. 

Loki closed his eyes, rubbed them. 

Not only did he have to keep his facade up with that oaf of a king-in-waiting, now he had to meet his mother and do the same for her. For turning down her request without a valid reason would be a slight that would not be received well. 

Loki sighed again and peeled himself out of his sheets. He would take a quick bath and have a bite to eat. And then he would get this over with. 

 

X

 

Loki followed Sweyn out into the royal gardens. He was grumpy and slightly nervous meeting with Frigga, knowing that Thor's mother was not only understanding but also highly intelligent.  
He did not want anyone with her gift of foreseeing to look into his soul too closely. And he really hoped that Lady Frigga did not want to discuss her son. For keeping the disdain out of his voice was still hard, and she would be able to read below his surface. 

Loki would just have to try harder, hide his emotions better.

Thor was a blind idiot.  
Frigga? Not so much.

He was led deep into the royal gardens, entering an area he had not visited before. Sweyn took him along a long, narrow corridor planted with blossoming trees that smelled sweet, yet not overpowering. At the end of the pathway was an old wooden gate that the guard pushed open before stepping aside to let Loki to enter.  
He steeled himself and stepped through.

Laid out before him was a garden that was lush beyond comparison, a neat square with a small pond on one side, a field of wild growing flowers that went knee-high to his left. To his right were and rows over rows of meticulously planted herbs and plants. Frigga was sitting at a small table situated under a large tree, the branches reaching wide, offering shade from the burning sun. She looked up as Loki entered, a warm smile spreading her lips. She rose gracefully and walked towards him, extending her hands in a welcoming gesture. “Loki. It is good to see you.”

Loki returned her smile mechanically as he approached her, placing his cool palms upon her warm hands. She gave them a tight squeeze before she leaned in, offering him a soft kiss on his cheek. Loki felt his skin burning as she withdrew. All of the sudden he was disgusted by the farce of his captor's mother pretending to care for him. He fought down the emotion, keeping his face neutral. “My Lady. It is good to see you as well.”

She shook her head. “Please, Loki, there is no need for such formalities. Call me Frigga.” 

Loki nodded. “I thank thee...Frigga.”

She smiled softly and slipped her hands from his, turning towards the table. “Come. Have a seat with me.” He followed her quietly and sat down. When he was seated he took a moment to appreciate the subtle beauty of the garden they were in. It was rather small but cozy, surrounded by tall, light green hedges blooming in yellow and white. There was a cool breeze, the leaves rustling in the air. 

Frigga pulled him out of his thoughts. “May I offer you to drink? Some tea? Buttermilk? Maybe some mead or ale?”  
Loki shook his head. “Just some cold water, if you please.”

She smiled and turned to a servant standing by the side, asking her for some tea and cool water, as well as an assortment of pastries. They watched as the maid walked towards a small table a little way off, filling two cups from different jugs. They sat in silence as she brought them over, placing the drinks in front of them. 

Frigga took the plate of sweets, offering it to Loki.  
He declined with a quick shake of his head, and she placed it back onto the table.

“So how do you like my little kingdom, Loki?” Her smile was soft as she sipped at her cup of steaming herbal tea. 

Loki nodded, reached for the glass of water. It was cool and refreshing. “It is very nice.”

“I love coming here. It is an indulgence.” Frigga looked around, eyes warm. “It was a gift from Odin when I first came to Asgard many millenia ago. My days were long and lonely, and without anything to do I got rather ... restless.” Frigga turned back to Loki, focusing on the Frost Giant opposite her. “It gave me somewhere to go, a way to spend my long days.”

Loki nodded. He kept his face neutral.  
Right.  
He remembered Frigga was a consort as well. Thor had mentioned that.  
Loki wondered if this was going to be a talk from consort to consort, if she was going to share perceived wisdom with him on how to master his situation best. 

How Loki could best serve her son.

He really hoped that would not be the case.  
For he could not allow himself to seem ungracious or even rude to Thor's mother. He had not forgotten how good she had been to him when he was young. It would be a shame if he would repay her friendliness from then with sour disrespect now. 

Loki took another sip of the water. 

Frigga watched him intently, her blue eyes scanning him. “There is a reason I have asked you to join me here today, Loki.” He looked up at her, noting how the sun dappled her features as she leaned in closer. “How do you fare?”  
Loki's opened his mouth, closed it, willed his smile not to waver. 

How did he fare?

 _Lie-smith_.

He straightened his shoulders, his eyes flicking up to take in the deep-blue ones of the Mother of Gods.  
Thor had her eyes.  
How had he not noticed it before?

Loki cleared his throat. “I thank thee for your concern. I fare well.”

She nodded, but her eyes felt like they were boring into his soul, as if she forced tendrils into his mind. He held her gaze, his smile never wavering. Loki wondered if she was using her magical abilities to read him, and if she could see his seiðr floating dead inside of him, his innermost core shredded. 

She reached over the table and placed her hand on his cool forearm, her eyes never leaving his face.

“I hope my son is treating you well.”

Loki's eyes widened a fraction at the direct inquiry, and he had to take a moment to make sure that his mask of indifference was still in place. He inclined his head. “Very well. Thank you for asking.”

Frigga looked down to where her pink skin was in contact with the bright blue flesh of the Frost Giant, and she gave him a soft squeeze. 

“I can only imagine how hard this must be for you.” Frigga's eyes studied him again, and Loki's gaze flicked away. He made a non-comitting sound. 

He really wished he had not come. He did not want to have this conversation.  
Not here. Not now.  
Preferably never. 

Frigga continued. “None of the things that have happened to you should have... occurred. It is a shame what war does to good men.” Loki evaded her gaze, kept it concentrated on the small droplets of perspiration slipping down his glass. “Thor always only wanted your best, Loki. You mean a lot to him. But when old men fight wars, the young survivors are usually the ones that carry the heaviest burden. And you as a royal argr.... “ Her eyes were now focused on him, darkened with emotion. “...what I mean to say, Loki, is that I am sorry.”

Loki felt a hot stab of anger deep in his chest, and it was combined with a sudden sheen of tears that blurred his vision. He fought them down, racking his brain for an answer that would be appropriate, that would not show how much he just wanted to stab and maim and kill this whole family, this whole realm for that matter, make them pay, make then all pay for what they had done to him....

Frigga watched him closely, her hand still resting on his forearm, as if it had the right to be there. Loki sat up a little straighter, pointedly pulling it away from her. He reached for his glass and studied it intently, taking a sip. The water was warming up.

Now he wished he had asked for mead.

When he put the goblet down he felt a little more in control. 

Loki returned Frigga's gaze, voice cool. “I thank thee for your concern. I am fine. My father knew of the consequences that a defeat against the great Asgard would bring along. And Thor had no other _choice_ , he ensured me of that.” His eyes were belying his calm demeanor, glittering with suppressed outrage. 

They both knew has not been the case, especially when Thor had given Loki the option to become his consort. For death never had been a fair alternative.

Loki lowered his head slightly, trying to hide the sneer on his face. “I have heard of the Allfather's ailment. I am sure that times are hard for you as well. I wish to extend _my_ sympathy to _you_.”

Frigga's face fell for a moment, and she scanned Loki with sharp eyes, reading him, studying him.  
Loki did not lower or avert her gaze, red eyes burning into blue ones. 

Frigga nodded. Her features softened once more. She sighed deeply, took another sip of her tea. “I thank thee for your compassion. Sometimes it is hard to understand why the Norns have chosen a certain path for us. All we can do is rely on their wisdom and keep heading towards our destiny. The past is gone, no matter how much we wish to dwell on it. Our actions may leave scars, visible and invisible, but we can do nothing to change what has caused them.” She stared at Loki, and her eyes seemed to be boring into his soul once more. “It is only our future we can influence. And we need to follow the path the Norns have led us on.”

Loki grit his teeth, shifted. His hands were bunched in his lap, gripping the soft material of his pants much too tight. “And what would my path be, pray tell? To bear Thor's children with a smile on my face and become a devoted mother?” He tried to keep the snarl from his voice, but he did not think he succeeded too well. 

Frigga shook her head. “No, Loki. Thought children may be part of your future I don't believe they are your only destiny. You are too deeply entangled in the Web of Life. But you need to follow the way the Norns cleared for you. And allowing yourself to dwell only on anger and resentment will keep you from fulfilling your true fate. ”

Loki grit his teeth. So now even the mother of Thor asked him to accept his new position, to give in and allow everything that would happen to happen without fighting. 

He should have known. 

Frigga looked at him, taking in his furrowed brow, the tight mouth that had lost every hint of a smile. 

She sighed. “Please don't misunderstand me. Your displeasure at your situation is not only understandable, it is necessary. But there is nothing neither you nor I can do about it.”

Loki fisted his hands. “You could talk to your son and ask him to release me.”

Frigga shook her head sadly. “And then what? Have him put you in the dungeon for the rest of your days? Have him make an example of you just like he did with the rest of your family? Have him silence and bind you? That would help no one.”

Loki snarled. He was very close to standing up and leaving. It took him all his energy to stay seated. “But I guess being bred to birth a bastard would serve a greater purpose? For whom, I wonder?”

Frigga never evaded his gaze. “Why would it be so bad for the Icen Realm to have a king or queen of mixed heritage? A sovereign that _you_ can influence and raise to be just and noble? Jötunheimr has not had the ruler it truly deserved in a very long time. What if your destiny is to steer it back on the right path? To make it what it once was, so very long ago? A great and righteous realm?”

Loki leaned back, his eyes narrowed. His voice was low. “You seem to have forgotten that while I may hold a nice title that matches your own, I am still a prisoner. I have a guard that watches over me day and night, I wear a collar that keeps me from using my seiðr. A collar put on me by your son. The only path that I can follow, the only future I have is to please Thor. To be bred. To follow his will. That is my destiny.”

Frigga's voice changed. It became lower, quieter. “Do you truly believe that, Loki? That you are meant to stand in the shadow of another for the rest of your life?” She sighed deeply, staring off into the distance for a long moment. Then she took a sip of tea, focusing on the Frost Giant once more. ”Of course the violation you had to endure was inexcusable. But how many women and argr have been in your situation? Yes, you have been taken as a spoil of war, but really, Loki. Take a stand back and really _look_ at where you are. Unless I am wrong, Thor does not mistreat you. He does not use you the way he could a spoil. Instead he respects your need for distance, the need for you to get control over your situation. You are not a prisoner but a respected member of the court. Thor feels very deeply for you. I know this to be true. And as a spoil in your position you can have more influence over the man you are bound to than his closest allies.” 

Frigga shifted, eyes flicking down to her hands where she was holding her cup of tea. It had gone cold. “When I came to Asgard as an offer of peace between our realms, I was very young, only just had started bleeding. And Odin, he was much older and very intimidating. He made me his consort to seal a bond between two lands, to ensure a truce. All I had to do is birth an heir of mixed blood. Vanaheimr and Asgard were to be made one. And for that the Allfather had to take me into his bed.” Frigga looked at Loki, eyes bright with the memories. “I know it will never compare to your situation. But when I came here I was young and afraid. I still did what I had to do. And, over the years, I learned to love Odin. I became powerful in my own right. And now I am his equal, and he lends me his ear when he deems it appropriate. I am not saying that you have to do the same. I am saying that the fury over your plight stops you from looking forward.”

Loki sat, his head lowered. He was gripping his cup tight enough that he wondered if it would shatter. 

Frigga sat up straightening herself. “Of course you will need to bide your time. But in the end you were never meant to stand in anyone's shadow. You can rule over Thor as much as he rules over you.”

Loki leaned back, mouth pressed into a thin line.  
He was pondering her words, words that made sense in a way.  
But why would the mother of Thor give him this kind of advice?  
What was her intention? 

Loki took another sip of water, looking at Frigga from under his lashes.  
She seemed relaxed, a small smile on her lips, as if she knew something about him he did not.  
He dug his nails into his thigh, the sharp pain focusing his thoughts. He regretted that he had not been able to keep his emotions in check, that he had not been able to simply sit and listen, to nod and agree.  
Instead he had to argue.

When was he finally going to learn?

Frigga watched the Frost Giant whose head was lowered in defiance, fingers clenching around his glass.  
She turned towards the maid asking for more tea, giving her guest enough time to collect his thoughts. Only when she receives and had taken a sip of the steaming liquid, did she address Loki once more. “I am sorry for being so blunt, Loki, but these were things that I believe you need to hear.” Her smile was back, soft and inviting. “Either way, I know how long and lonely the days can be when you have nothing to do. So I took the liberty to arrange some diversions. Only if you are interested, of course.”

Loki carefully raised his head, studying Thor's mother.  
What was she talking about now?

Frigga continued. “There are several conservatories outside the capital. They are used to cultivate plants that need specific temperatures to thrive in. Next to the hot houses are ice houses, where the the temperature is kept below zero to nurture plants that require snow and ice to grow.” 

Loki stared up at her.  
How had he never heard of such a thing?

“I talked to the head caretaker. If you are interested, he will take you around and show you everything. I was told that some of the plants are from Jötunheimr, some crops, mushrooms and rare flowers. If you so wish, one of the gardeners will educate you about the cultivation and how to grow different species. One of the ice houses is only partially used, you are welcome to set up your own little garden there, if you so wish.” She smiled. “Your own little kingdom.”

Loki felt numb.  
He had not expected this.  
He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I thank thee for the offer, but I don't think...”

Frigga interrupted him by placing her warm hand onto his arm once more. “You don't need to make a decision now. Just think about it. And if you want to take up the offer, you just ask your guard to take you there whenever you wish.”

Loki swallowed.

This offer was more than generous. 

Frigga took her hands away as Loki wondered how to reply. “Also, I remembered you enjoyed some of the classes when you were a peace-hostage. I have taken the liberty to secure a tutor for you. Again, it is of course your choice to see her, but if you want she is happy to meet with you three times a week. Again, just let Sweyn know and it will be set up.”

Loki just stared at her. He felt dizzy. “But Thor....”

Frigga smiled brightly. “Thor is busy with running a kingdom. He has never sat in boredom in his rooms, watching life pass by. Some people relish in the thought, but neither you nor I were born to enjoy monotony for too long. I assure you he will have no objections.” She watched him, smile crinkling the side of her eyes. “And if he does, just you come and find me.”

Loki stared at her.  
Sure.  
Whenever he objected to Thor, he would call on his mother.

Not likely. 

Frigga turned towards her servant, waved her over.

“I think that a glass of sweet mead will be just right at this point, don't you think, Loki?”

Loki was still staring at her. Then he shrugged. 

“Whatever you wish...Frigga.”

There. 

He had himself back under control.

Frigga leaned back, smiling.

“But nothing is really about what I wish, is it Loki? It is about what you wish. I just want to make sure that you get the tools to start on your path.”

Loki inclined his head. He was glad when the servant put the large cup into his hand, and the sweet, honeyed smell of the mead streamed into his nostrils.  
He looked up, red eyes meeting blue ones.

“I thank thee, Frigga.”

She raised her cup.

“Here is to your life, Loki. May you find the path the Norns have paved for you.”

Loki took a small sip.

He would drink to that. 

Gladly.


	24. As time goes by

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Some lewdness, some dub-con, but not as heavy as it could be. Not nearly as much as it will be next chapter. * cough * 
> 
> Again, a reminder that these boys are young. Thor maybe in his early/mid twenties (and yes, that is super young in my mind) and Loki in his late teens, MAYBE early twenties.  
> Which means they get to be stupid. I hope I am not repeating myself too often. 
> 
> Blessed love to uluka, who still puts up with me and betas everything I write. And sometimes there are loads of mistakes she saves you from, guys. So a big shout-out of love to her! For real. 
> 
> Comments and kudos mean the world to me. Always love to know what you lovelies think about my creation.
> 
>  
> 
> x

Time went by. 

Weeks bled into months, months into a year. 

The year passed. And then another.

Thor did not touch Loki.

And the Frost Giant bade his time. 

He spent many a day sitting by his window, staring out into the universe, reading in old, precious books or bathing in the cool pool. Sometimes he paced.  
In his rooms.  
Through the gardens.  
Up and down, side to side, again and again. His eyes glid over everything, shiny and golden, precious and luxurious, and he reminded himself that this was a cage and that he was a prisoner.

Less than two months after having met Frigga, Loki rode out to the ice-houses with Sweyn. He quietly marveled at the sheer size of the buildings, relishing the cool air on his skin, the thick ice under his feet. It reminded him of home. Loki took to visiting the ice-houses at least once a week, setting up a small garden in one of them.  
Under careful supervision he learned how to plant crops in different surroundings, be it hard, old black ice, fresh, softer ice, or powdery snow. He found out that some plants preferred strong light while others flourished in shade or darkness, some required strong winds to distribute their seeds, while others refused to bloom if there was much more than a breeze. He set up his own experiments, and took notes on the discoveries he made. Sometimes he forgot that he was no longer a student. 

Learning about agriculture turned out to be utterly fascinating. 

And it kept his mind off everything else.

Loki also took to meeting with his tutor twice a week, discussing anything from politics to poetry, from mathematics to biology and finally, after some hesitation, revisited the history of magic once more. And even though he had no access to his seiðr, he took to studying spells, in a masochist streak of reminding himself of what he had lost. 

Loki still spent every other evening with Thor, and sometimes he caught himself reporting on what he had learned, be it about his crops or a fascinating fact he had picked up that day. But whenever he realized what he was doing, he immediately stopped himself. 

This he did not want. 

Thor was his prison-keeper.  
His rapist. 

Not his friend. 

Not anymore.

Loki was thankful beyond belief that the Odinson had not yet claimed him in the way he had the right to. After all, he had expected Thor to force himself on him the moment he got in these rooms, to take what was not offered, to ignore his pleas and just … violate him. 

But he hadn't.  
Instead he was being... _sweet._ In that oafish, idiotic and thoughtless way that Loki had found somewhat charming at one point in his life. But then the war and subsequent rape had ruined everything that had once resembled affection.

Yet, as time passed, Loki's anger, flaming hot and overwhelming in the beginning, dampened. Much like fire turning into coal it condensed and simmered down into a compact form that still radiated heat, but was much less visible than it used to be.  
It made his mind sharper and his visions clearer. 

Loki started making plans. 

First, most of his thoughts and ideas revolved around revenge.  
How to a avenge his father and brothers, how to make everyone pay for what had been done to him. 

But with time he calmed. 

Thor was civil enough. The Asgardians, while they stared at him, did not mock him openly.

Life was ... not bad.

So instead Loki started thinking about escape. 

He needed to get away. 

Leave this gilded cage of his. 

Go back to Jötunheimr.

But how?

Loki sat in the gardens or at his window and churned ideas in his head, over and over. Schemes and strategies washed through his mind, and he considered them, pondered them, rejected them. 

And no matter how he twisted and turned the facts, in the end there was only one answer. 

He had to have Thor's baby.

He would need to breed, go into Heat, needed to carry the spawn for years until he could finally give birth. Thor had told him that only then could he return to the Icen Realm. 

And only then could he escape. 

The Odinson was clever, really.  
Loki realized that, once bound to a babe, leaving it behind would be so much harder. 

But that was all he could do. Nothing else seemed feasible.

Loki pondered over the dilemma day and night, for weeks and months. 

The idea of having sex lost its immense horror as time passed.  
More and more it seemed like it would be an annoying task Loki would have to go through to achieve his goal.

For at the moment he felt like he hung in stasis.  
While the worlds continued turning around an axis in the galaxy, he had stopped living, hanging suspended in time with nothing to do, no purpose in life. 

To work towards his goal, for his life to continue, he had to have sex. 

Once or twice Loki thought about making the first step, to offer himself, to ask the Odinson to join him in his bed. 

But he found he could not. 

The day where he would be mounted and degraded would come. But he decided it would not be of his own doing.

Loki knew that sex meant power. It could give him a lot of influence over Thor.

But he was just and simply not ready for that. 

So Loki waited for Thor to make the first move. 

It would make it easier to hate him again. 

 

X

Thor continued enjoying simply being around Loki, day in and day out. He appreciated that his consort stopped flinching every time he saw him, that he did not tense whenever he stepped into the room. Even his eyes stopped spraying fear and fury whenever he got too close.

However, as time passed and months and years went by, Thor had also hoped that Loki would warm up to him. He wished for conversation and maybe even a smile. Once or twice he thought they had made progress, Loki beaming with pride about something he had accomplished during the day, some minor fact he had learned or something to do with his gardening. But whenever he raised his eyes to look at Thor, his face molded itself back into a expressionless mask and he stopped speaking. The only thing that ever betrayed his emotions were his eyes. And while they had stopped glazing over with fear or anger, they now were often clouded with indifference. 

Slowly Loki spun a cocoon of silence around himself. 

And as time, passed Thor started to run out out of stories to tell, did not know what other gifts to bring, what else to do with his consort who so very clearly did not want him around. 

They played Mār many a night in silence. 

Thor had no idea what else to do.

 

X

 

Thor's closest friends had noticed, of course, how absent-minded he had become since he had taken the crown. They took him on short hunts and coaxed him to visit Midgard. They took him drinking and riding.

But Thor was irritable.

Many a night he spent wooing the reluctant Frost Giant, leaving with a sense of disappointment that grew heavier as the months and years passed, mounting on his tired shoulders.  
The Jötun was his consort. He should have soothed his needs and helped him forget his daily worries. Instead the king-in-waiting crawled in and out of his spoil's chamber like a love-sick teenager. Loki's body, his mind, his soul, all should have been his to command. 

Instead, it was the other way around.

Thor's mood turned sour.

He snapped at his servants and passed excessively harsh judgments at court, he trained viciously with his sword day in, day out, to get rid of pent-up energy. 

Finally Fandral visited him one evening and without another word took him to a high-end brothel located at the edge of the capital. They used to visit the establishment together when they were younger, when they had been unburdened still, free to live and do as they pleased. 

Thor realized that his friend was wise. 

For he was still a man.  
A man with needs and wants.  
And they were currently not being met.

Stepping into the luxurious entrance hall of the whore house, Thor recognized a small Elf from previous visits. She was fragile, white-limbed with tiny breasts, and when she laughed she threw her head back, sending her long, white hair flying. She was talkative to no end and her eyes sparkled with mischief.  
That reminded him of Loki, if nothing else did. 

Thor had always liked her and he remembered that he used to take her to his chambers more than he did any of the other wenches. That evening he chose her without a second thought, allowed her small hand to curl around his arm as she led him into her small chamber. 

She was just like he remembered, willing to please, wrapping her slim body around his with practiced ease, and her cries of passion sounded true.

When he was done rutting into her, Thor lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was lost in thought, her small, light body splayed over his. She played with long strands of his hair, circling her finger lazily over his chest.

“I thought you had forgotten about me.” Her voice was just like her, small, sweet and fragile.

Thor smiled at her, rubbed her back with his fingers, but did not answer. 

For a moment he wondered what it would be like if Loki were here instead of her, how cool his skin would be on his warm flesh, how much longer his limbs would be wrapped when around him. How his eyes would sparkle with mischief just like hers did. 

But no.  
Loki did not share his bed.  
Not now.  
In all likelihood never would not unless Thor forced him to. 

He sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his calloused hands. 

“My Lord?” The Elf tugged at his hair playfully, curling her body on top of his like a cat.  
Thor looked up at her purple eyes, remembered where he was. “Apologies. I was in thought.”

“Kingly thoughts, I am sure.” She grinned, wiggling her hips lower, teasing him with the sensual movements. “I thought that blue-skinned consort of yours would keep you away from us forever. I am glad he is willing to share you.” She giggled, her hands sneaking between his legs, fingers running over his flaccid length. “A man of your prowess should not be bound to only one, after all.”

Thor stared at her. Her clever fingers were stroking him slowly, and then she leaned in, kissing him softly on his lips, her sweet tongue lapping at him.

And Thor closed his eyes and tried to imagine cooler skin, red eyes and black hair, and the next time he came inside of her it was not her name falling from his lips.

 

X

 

It was a cool evening. Loki was sitting by the open window, enjoying the breeze flowing soothingly over his body. He was sitting on a fat pillow, with an old, fragile book on his lap, captivated by its accounts of the different types of magic recorded across the realms. The text was ancient, written in old cursive, and the dust on the pages filled the air with golden clouds as he carefully turned them over. He sat in silence, loving the slight smell of rotting paper as he soaked up ancient wisdom. 

There was a hard knock on the door and Loki straightened and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.  
So much for a quiet evening reading a good book. 

He stood in a fluid motion, carefully placing the old text on a table under the window. 

“Come in.”

The Odinson almost filled out the door-frame with his broad body. His smile was as large and toothy as usual, but Loki noticed that his eyes seemed troubled. He quickly lowered his gaze, staring at the floor, just like he always did. 

Thor studied him intently. 

When Loki continued to evade his gaze, simply standing in front of him and waiting for Thor to make the first move, he sighed and quietly closed the door behind him.  
Then he stepped up, cupping Loki's chin softly to bring his face up for their well-established kiss. As usual Loki did not lean in or raise his head out of his own volition, and Thor felt a sudden flash of indignation at his consort's continuous refusal.

It had been _years_.

He had tried so very hard.

How did Loki not see that?

Thor gave him the usual peck, this time allowing his lips to linger a little longer, relishing in the soft coolness beneath him. When he pulled back the Frost Giant was still evading his gaze, and Thor sighed again.

He had given Loki so much time, as much as he believed he needed, and nothing had happened. 

Thor had nothing else to give, nothing left to offer.

He understood now that the Frost Giant, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, would never come to him of his own accord. They were stuck in some strange dance of evading each other that neither of them enjoyed very much.

And Thor had been visiting more and more wenches of late. 

People would wonder why he had taken a spoil if he then chose to look for pleasure outside of his consort's chambers. 

He asked himself the same thing. 

It made no sense. 

 

It was time to hold Loki true to his word. 

 

X

 

Thor thought for a whole week how he should go about bedding Loki.  
But he simply did not have a strategy. 

To take his mind off things he allowed his closest friends, the Warrior Three and Sif, to take him into a tavern and they emptied cup after cup of bitter ale, laughing and exchanging stories. The later the night got, the less worried did Thor become about his upcoming endeavor of taking Loki to his bed. 

The Jötun was his consort after all. 

Surely he would understand that Thor would have to ask for him to honor his part of the bargain.

And he had been very lenient so far. 

So when Thor drunkenly swayed back to his rooms, he knew all of a sudden that tonight was the night he wanted, no, needed to feel his consort's touch. Thor stopped in his own chambers to retrieve something he had been waiting to gift Loki for a long while. 

He had just waited for the right moment. 

Then he stepped up the door to his consort's room and knocked. 

 

X

 

Loki had finished his toilette for the evening and had already climbed into bed, staring out the enormous windows into the night, appreciating the millions of stars sparkling in the darkness. His eyes were slowly drifting shut when there was a loud knock on the door separating his rooms from Thor's chambers. 

Loki sat up with a start, staring through the darkness towards the unexpected noise. He waited for a moment, wondering if he had misheard. There was another knock, loud and demanding, and Loki sighed as he pushed himself out of bed, padding towards the door. 

Why in all the realms would Thor disturb him this late? 

“I'm coming.” Loki felt annoyance bubble up inside of him as he turned the valve of his gas lamp, illuminating the room in soft light. Then he stepped up to the door, taking a deep breath as he smoothed his tousled, open hair back, patting down the crinkles in his silken pants. 

There was another hard rap, and Loki rolled his eyes before pressing down the handle, pushing the door open. 

Thor was leaning in the doorway, wearing a dark outfit with a green cape, grinning like an idiot. 

The Frost Giant glowered at him from under long lashes. Then the smell of alcohol hit his nostrils and his mouth curled in distaste. By the Norns, the Odinson was drunk.  
“Thor. It is late.” He did not try to mask the annoyance in his voice.

Thor nodded, still grinning widely at him. “I know.” He lifted a small bottle filled with a honey-colored liquid. “I brought you a treat.”

Loki rolled his eyes. His mouth was set in a thin line and for a moment he wondered if he could simply send the drunken Odinson away. But then again, he had no reason to deny him entry, so he sighed deeply and turned around, walking back into his rooms. He could always sleep late tomorrow.  
“Fine. Come in.”

Thor stepped into his consorts chambers, noisily closing the door behind himself. 

Loki stopped next to the sofa, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes were cold when he studied Thor who had followed him, swaying slightly on his feet.  
The Jötun huffed out a breath of irritation, pointing towards his sofa. “Sit before you fall and hurt yourself.” 

Thor let out a low laugh, slumped down with little grace. He grinned up at Loki who was still standing, scowling down at him with those red eyes. 

His voice was slurring only slightly as he held up the bottle, offering it to his consort. “Come, Loki, have a drink with me.”

Loki raised a single eyebrow as he took the offered bottle, turning it in his hands. His voice was smooth. “I think maybe you have had enough to drink tonight, Thor.”

Thor made a dismissive hand gesture. “I'm fine. Please, Loki. Drink with me.” He leaned forward and stared at him with large, liquid eyes, and Loki let out a sharp sigh. “Fine.” He walked towards a small cupboard and selected two small crystal glasses. “What is this drink?”

He turned to Thor who was following his every move, eyes sparkling. “It's called Ice-wine.” Loki made his way back to the sofa, raising his eyebrow questioningly at the answer. Thor leaned in closer, his voice lowering.“It's from Midgard, a rare and special treat. It made me think of my consort when I heard of it.” He grinned, licking his lips. “It is sweet and heady, just like you.”

Ugh.  
Loki stopped in his tracks, staring down at the Odinson, faintly disgusted by the oafish attempt at sweet-talk.  
He managed to swallow down his disdainful reply, but only just.

Then he realized that Thor was staring at him.

Hungrily. 

A sudden rush of long-forgotten panic washed over Loki's spine when he recognized that Thor's pupils were darkened with need. He was lusting for him.  
Loki gripped the bottle tighter as to not drop it to the floor.

So his grace period was over.  
Thor had come to finally claim what was his. 

Loki's knees buckled, and he forced them to straighten. He had been waiting for this so long, and he was not going to make a fool of himself by losing his dignity now.  
This was about his life continuing, after all. 

And it was not like he was going to live in luxury just because Thor needed someone to talk and play games with. 

Loki took a deep breath and lowered his head slightly.

He swallowed hard and walked back towards the Thunderer, carefully sitting next to him on the couch. He passed the glasses to Thor to hold as he pulled his legs underneath him, then worked the cork free from the bottle of ice wine until it smoothly slid out. Loki tried to steady his shaking fingers as he avoided Thor's gaze, lifting the wine to his nose. The aroma was rich and sweet as it curled in his nostrils. 

Loki tried a smile. “It smells good.”

Thor grinned at him, licking his lips as he leaned even closer, invading Loki's space. “It was made from grapes that have to go through a winter in snow and ice to make the wine so very sweet.”

Loki nodded, wondering for an instant if he should feign a headache and try to retreat. The knot in the pit of his stomach was turning hot and heavy and he wished he could simply excuse himself. However, it would not make a difference if he had sex now or ten years down the road. 

It was going to happen, either way.  
_Had_ to happen.

Thor had given him a long enough grace period. 

Loki ignored the Odinson's hot breath ghosting over the side of his face, and leaned over to pour the liquid into the first glass with shaking hands. Thor was far too close for his comfort, but he would be coming even closer if this went the way he suspected. Loki steadied himself by clutching the fragile bottle hard enough that he wondered if it would shatter. 

It did not. 

He worked the cork back in, sealing the bottle once more and then carefully placed it onto the couch table. Then he plucked one of the glasses from Thor's hands. 

The Odinson raised his drink, eyes squinting at the golden liquid. His voice was a slight slur when he toasted towards Loki. “Here's to my beautiful consort.”  
Loki smoothed his features and toasted back, taking a small sip. The wine was sweet and heady, just as Thor had said, and it lingered softly on his tongue. He made an appreciative humming sound and took another sip. Thor threw his own drink back in a smooth motion without relishing the liquor, and placed the empty glass onto the table. He then leaned back, staring at Loki who continued nipping at his glass.

There was a long moment of silence while Loki stared down at the golden beverage, every now and then glancing over to Thor. The Odinson was returning his gaze, hunger shining brightly within those blue eyes.  
Loki took another sip, finishing his glass, carefully placing it back onto the table. 

Thor was still staring at him in silence, and Loki picked up the bottle again. He cleared his throat. “Would you like another?” Maybe he could get Thor to drink until he passed out? He squinted at the small bottle, less than a liter of the sweet wine and realized how futile that hope was. Once, a long while ago, Thor had drunk a whole barrel of ale as a dare and afterward had walked away.

If the king-in-waiting could do one thing, it was hold his drink.

All of a sudden Thor spoke, his voice a rough whisper. “Loki...” His wet eyes were fastened on his, and Loki tried to ignore the fondness and warmth that was shining within them. “... I have missed you.”  
Loki looked up, frowning. He kept his tone neutral while straitening his spine.“I am right here. All the time. It's not like I'm going anywhere.” 

You took care of that, after all.

Thor shook his head, honeyed hair shifting in the light of the gas lamp. “No. That's not what I mean. I mean I miss _you_. Your sharp tongue and your snappy remarks and your... intellect. Just you. I feel like you're gone.” He stared at him, and his hand lowered itself onto Loki's knee, rubbing it slightly. “You don't ever talk to me anymore. Don't even answer my questions.”

Loki snorted and leaned in to pour another round of ice wine. This time he drained the glass just as quick as Thor had his previous.  
“Yeah. Well. Just trying to stay alive.”

Thor's eyes darkened. He pushed his hair from his forehead, staring down at the second glass filled with golden liquid. “But I don't want you to become someone you're not. I wished you had not changed as much. I would never punish you for who you are.”

Loki glowered at him.  
They'd had this discussion.  
And it had not ended well.  
He was not going to do this again. 

So he just shrugged his shoulders. “Ok. I will try to remember that.”

Thor grinned again, as if relieved. “Good. That's good.” He took a drink from his second glass and emptied it rather quickly once more. 

They sat side by side, slightly awkward, and Loki got to the point where he wondered if Thor was ever going to leave or finally touch him. Anything. Thor was still staring at him, pupils blown wide enough so his blue eyes were almost black. 

His voice was rough, low. “Loki...”

Loki looked up at him. Thor licked his lips, eyes flicking up and down the others body. “May I kiss you?”

Loki pushed down the nausea that washed through him. He realized his face must have shown his aversion for Thor raised his hands, shaking his head. “Only if you will allow me...”

Loki rolled his eyes.

He wanted to go home.  
This was how he would do it.  
And now was as good a time as any.

“Yes. Of course.” He did not lean in or inch any closer. If Thor wanted this he would have to get it himself. 

The Odinson stared at him, then smiled. He leaned forward, then he lifted his hand to caress the side of Loki's cool face, stroking it with warm fingers. Loki wanted to turn away but he fought down the urge, instead just sat and stared over Thor's shoulder, wishing he would just lay him down and fuck him already and get it over with. 

He wanted to go to sleep. Preferably alone.

The fingers stroking his face trailed down to his mouth, calloused thumb catching his lower lip and pulling it down slightly. Loki suppressed a full body shudder at the sensual gesture.  
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again Thor had leaned in, lips ghosting over Loki's face. His eyes were wide and liquid, pupils blown.  
He was breathless. “Loki. How I have missed you...”

The Frost Giant wanted to snarl and scratch, but instead he stayed still and waited, body tense as Thor's mouth pressed against his, softly at first. Pictures of another, much more innocent kiss flashed in his mind, but Loki pushed them away. They did not belong here.  
He was not going to taint the memory with...this. 

He kept still as Thor placed gentle kisses over his mouth, tongue flicking at him but not pressing into him, not yet. The big hands were caressing the sides of his cool face, stroking over his hair.  
Thor let out a soft groan, his tongue now licking along the seam of his lips and Loki tentatively opened them to allow it in. He knew he should do something, because he was the royal consort after all, but he felt frozen, refusing to actively participate in whatever was happening to him. He wished he could mentally check out and come back when the Odinson was done rutting into his reluctant body. 

Thor moaned softly again, and his hands caressed his face with more urgency, pushing them back to card them through Loki's black mane, catching at tangled strands, tugging at them. His hot, slick tongue pushed its way into Loki's mouth, tasting of ale and sweet wine, curling around lazily, and after a moment of hesitation Loki wrapped his own around it.

The Odinson's hand fell onto Loki's back and he pulled him closer. He continued stroking his cool skin, burning fingers trailing over his risen brands, over his shoulders and arms. Then they moved on to his chest, catching his nipples, squeezing them. Loki made a small noise of disgust, swallowed by Thor's demanding kisses. 

But he forced himself not to move.  
His brain started a litany of _Stay still_ and _Just let him do it_ and it took all of his effort to allow this to happen. 

Thor's kisses got more demanding and sloppy, and he groaned under his breath as he pulled his consort closer with demanding hands, almost pulling him up on his lap. Loki's whole body was tense and he had to fight not to turn away as the heat of Thor pressing against him became overwhelming. He could feel the thick thighs against his, his one hand curling possessively around his lower back, his other now trailing over his hips and stomach, painting lazy circles on his skin. Then Thor's hand wandered downwards to the seam of his pants, pulling at the cords to gain access. Loki took a shuddering breath when the Odinson pressed his hand flat against his stomach and pushed it slowly into his pants. He gasped against Thor's mouth, eyes flying open as the fingers brushed his flaccid cock, ghosting over it. The warm hand curled around his length, massaging his flesh.

No. 

Loki pulled back and away, sudden panic welling up in him. “Stop.” Loki knew he would have to take a lot of what was coming, but this, _this_ he did not want. 

Thor looked surprised, mouth red and slightly swollen from the kiss, eyes wide as he studied Loki's face. “I apologize Loki. Did I hurt you?”

Loki swallowed, moving himself further back, tugging at Thor's hand that was still pressed against his cock. The Odinson looked down and let go, removing it from inside the pants. He looked worried, somewhat lost. “Did I move too fast?”

Loki closed his eyes, opened them again.  
Idiot.  
“No. It's just ....” He swallowed. It was easier to just say what he was thinking. It was not like Thor would understand hints or suggestions. Not in his drunken state. Actually, not ever. “Don't touch my cock.”

Thor's facial expression switched to confused, brow furrowed. He looked down at Loki's crotch as if he did not understand what was being asked of him. “What? Why?” he asked, dumbly.

Loki sat up straighter, his hands fisted at his sides to keep himself calm. “Because I don't want you to.”

He did not want to be aroused. He was going to lie down and take it, but he did not want Thor with his fat, clumsy hands making him feel good about it. 

No. 

Anything but that. 

Thor blinked. He seemed to think for a moment.“But you...you are my consort. I _want_ to touch you.” Thor pushed a hand through his hair, eyes roaming the room. Then he turned back, shifted a little closer again, voice soothing. He reached out to touch Loki's arm, rubbing small circles into his flesh. “Just relax, Loki, I know I can make this good for you ...”

Loki let out a low, bitter laugh. His voice was cold as ice when he answered. “I don't want you to touch me. Not there. That's all.” 

Thor leaned back, looking at him with calculation. Loki straightened his head, shoulders. “I am not denying myself. You can bed me tonight. All I ask you is not to force me to enjoy it. When I go into Heat, I will be begging you for it anyway. But not today.” He grit his teeth, forced himself to look into the others eyes. “ _Please._ ”

Thor had gone very quiet. His eyes had narrowed. “I just want to kiss you. Pleasure you. Not for you to lie down and just... take it.”

Loki fisted his hands, eyes narrowing. “I am going to lie down and take it, whether you touch my cock or not.” He let out a hissing breath. “Fine. Do what you want. I am your spoil after all. And it's not like I get to have a say in it anyway.”

Thor had moved back again, his mouth in a thin line. He had apparently sobered up. “Ok. I'm sorry. I guess I was moving too fast. I thought I had given you more than enough time, but apparently not. I apologize if this was too early. ”

Thor backed away, brows furrowed. He stared at Loki and then stood abruptly. 

Loki sat, hands fisting at his sides, the heat of Thor's touches still burning like brands on his skin. Dirtying him. And now that oaf was going to walk away. Make it even harder for Loki to go with it next time. All of the sudden a anger Loki had been suppressing for so long washed over him, swallowing him whole. 

His voice was a snarl. “This is not too early. It will never be too early for you to fuck and breed me until I carry your spawn. You don't understand, do you? I am not going to enjoy this, no matter how long you wait. That will not change in a year, in ten years.” Loki stood, grasping Thor's wrist, pulling his hand forcefully towards his crotch. He was snarling. “So take what you paid for, my body belongs to you, after all.”

Thor's eyes flamed with anger. He pulled his arm away with a hard jerk, Loki stumbling forward with the sudden movement. Thunder was rumbling in the distance. “Is that what you wish? For me to take you without offering you pleasure? I am not going to rape my consort!”

Loki steadied himself, looked up at the Odinson towering above him. He was growling. “You already did that. You ask what I wish? I _wish_ to go home, I _wish_ I did not have to let your dirty fingers touch me, I _wish_ I had never met you. Do I wish for you to rape me? No. But I also don't _wish_ to _die_.”

Thor snarled. The two adversaries were facing each other, both with fisted hands, heaving breaths. The storm outside had reached them, lightening painting the sky white. “Home? Home? There your father would have peddled you to some Alpha double your size who would have held you down while he fucked you! Is that it? Would rather have some random Warrior who despised you for who you are demean you?”

Loki crossed his arms so he would not shove Thor away from himself. His fingers were digging painfully into the flesh of his arms. “I don't really see the difference. Isn't that _exactly_ what you are doing?”

Thor grit his teeth. He had sobered up completely. “Really? _Really?_ I treated you with respect. I have honored your need for time. I am gentle and give you space. I know you don't like it here but I do everything I can to make it pleasant for you. But that's not what you want, is it? Are you in need of a large Alpha holding you down? Is that it? Do you want me to force myself on you? To handle you like the lowly Ergi that you are ...?”

Loki slapped Thor, hard. “Don't you dare.” He was panting, watching as Thor held his cheek, startled, slowly flushing red. Lightning cracked the sky outside. “Don't you dare make yourself better than an Alpha. The first time you took me you had someone hold me down to rape me in front of a crowd. Then you had to threaten me with death before I would spread my legs for you again. So tell me again how you are so much better, how you treated me like I am worth something! Come on, TELL ME!” He was screaming the last words,. 

Thor glared at him and Loki thought for a moment that he would hit him back, but then the Odinson just curled his fingers into a fist and he gave a short, hard nod.  
“If this is what you think, then so be it.”

He turned and stomped to the little door connecting both their chambers, throwing it open and slamming it hard behind himself. 

Loki panted, anger and hate curling through him, and he sat down onto the sofa, breathing hard.  
He wanted to hurt someone, something, and then his hand flew out and he threw the bottle with the ice wine against the wall, relishing in the sharp crack of it breaking, of its content soaking into the tapestry and the furs beneath it. He could hear how Thor's steps had stopped, and then picked up again as he left his room, down to the hallway. 

The thunderstorm lasted the rest of the night.


	25. Pay your dues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I am so giddy. This is it. PORN!  
> OK, they were supposed to get it on in chapter 3 or so when I first wrote this story years ago. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? That was the longest foreplay EVER! 
> 
> WARNING: Loki is kind of reluctant but not, it's complicated, but either way this borders super close to dub-con / non-con, ok? Don't like, don't read. There is loads of angst and body-horror. And it is really rather explicit. No, wait. It is actually super explicit. Don't tell me I did not warn you. 
> 
> Now enjoy. Love to uluka, my ever faithful beta..  
> And love to each and every one of you leaving comments and kudos, they make me giddy and fuzzy and warm inside. 
> 
> Sorry I could not reply to your comments this last week, life got to me. I promise I will this week again. Hugs to you all though. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Loki went to bed angry that night, tossing and turning in his pillows, mind reeling over what had happened. 

As the hours passed, his anger subsided. 

At some point Loki stopped fidgeting.  
A cold certainty that he had done wrong oozed into his heart.  
He sat in the darkness, staring into the universe with dread. 

What in all the realms had he been thinking?

He had made a mistake.  
,  
Possibly a lethal one.

Damn the Norns.

Loki shifted, squirmed. He watched as lightening continued to paint the capital white, rain pelting against his window.  
He desperately needed to go talk to Thor in the morning.

x

 

The Frost Giant woke just before sunrise, to a slam of a door. It took him a moment to realize that the Odinson was leaving, heavy booted steps stomping down the hallway. By the time he got out of bed and ripped the door open to try to catch Thor, the corridor was already empty.

He shuffled back to his bed and dropped onto it with a sharp sigh. 

When the maid brought his breakfast that morning she told him that Lord Thor had gone on a hunting trip. He had not told anyone when he deemed to return.  
Loki ignored her pointed stares and waited for her to leave before he sat down to think things over.

He had messed up. 

Majorly. 

What had he been thinking? Thor held his life in his hands, literally.

All the Odinson had wanted was to touch the cock of his consort, nothing more.

Loki shuddered. Did he really just lay his life on the line just because he did not want to draw pleasure from their coupling?  
Above all, he had taken hours and days to research extensively what being a consort entailed. 

What had he been _thinking_?

Loki massaged his temples. 

He hadn't. 

That was the problem.  
Sometimes his anger just… got away with him. 

Also, the years of living an almost normal life, with the false sense of freedom had made him forget who he was. 

A whore.

Paid with his life for providing pleasure. 

So really, that made him a particularly _expensive_ whore.

And that meant he should darn well make sure that Thor enjoyed what he paid for.

Loki took to pacing his rooms again.

This time _he_ had been the idiot. 

He stopped and laughed out into the silence, a mean, distorted sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

He had been a disappointment the moment he was born, a humiliation to the house of his father, an insult to Odin. Now he had even failed at the ridiculously easy job of spreading his legs and keeping his mouth shut while doing so. 

If he was going to die, it would be nobody's fault but his own. 

 

X

 

It was early afternoon and Loki had just finished taking a long bath, drawing comfort in the water cooling his skin. He put on thin, almost see-through pants when he was done, the fabric clinging to his wet flesh. He tried to decide which book to read - something easy to keep his mind off what had happened - and had just picked up some Elven fairytale when he heard the heavy, booted steps make their way down the hallway. His heart stopped and then resumed at double the pace when the door to Thor's chambers opened and closed with familiarity.

The Odinson was back.

Loki's mouth went dry and he pushed himself up, fingers easing wrinkles out of the fabric of his white pants.  
So this was it.

He could not afford to fail again.

Loki walked towards the door, carefully placing each step in front of the other, keenly aware of how his feet sank into soft furs, how the silky pelts threaded between his toes, caressing them.  
The well-known feeling of panic and dread was clawing at the back of his throat, taking his breath away.

He stepped up to the door separating their chambers, fingers splaying over the smooth wood. Loki could hear the Odinson move within his rooms, and took a deep breath to steady himself once more for good measure. 

Then he knocked. 

There was a moment of silence as the heavy steps came to a halt. 

He waited for a heartbeat, and another. 

And another. 

There was no reaction.

He was met with utter silence. 

Loki knocked again. 

He closed his eyes, willing Thor to respond, to listen him out.  
_Come on, idiot, don't be a thickheaded bilgesnipe, come on, open up, please, please, please ..._

After another moment of silence the heavy steps picked up, and Loki felt relief flush through him as they made their way towards the door separating them. 

The Jötun stepped back, calming his nervous breathing, pushing hair behind his ear as he stood tall.

Thor ripped the door open and his bulk filled the doorway, big and ominous. His scent, heavy with musk, sweat and dried blood, washed over Loki's nostrils. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell but immediately realized what he had been doing and smoothed his features.  
Thor had seen it, however, and his lips thinned. “What do you want?” His voice was cold.

Loki swallowed, nodded.  
Time to play the game of being a good little consort.

“Thor! I welcome you back. I expect your hunt was successful and pleasurable? I can smell you killed... something.” He kept his voice even, his red eyes never leaving Thor's face. 

Thor grunted, eyes shifting up and down his body. His forehead knotted into a frown as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I have no interest in pleasantries, Loki. I ask, what do you want?”

Still angry then. “May I speak with you?”

Thor glowered at him. “Speak.”

Ok. He would have to do this here then.  
Fine.

“I wanted to apologize. I was in the wrong the other night.” Loki tried to sound humble, he really did. 

Thor let out a low laugh, but it did not reach his eyes. “There is no need. You told me how you felt. It is fine.” He lifted his chin, staring down at Loki. “It made me realize something I should have a long wile ago. That this...” He waved his hand, taking in Loki and his chamber in the gesture. “... is not working. Not for you. Not for me.”

The Frost Giant tensed. That did not sound good. 

He opened his mouth, but Thor continued before he could speak. “I shall decide the next couple of days what is to be done.” His eyes hardened. “I ask you to stay in your rooms until I have come to a conclusion.”

Horror washed through Loki. 

By the Norns.

That sounded final. 

He grit his teeth, pushed his head higher. “Thor, listen to me. I said I was in the wrong. I am sorry! And I am...” He heaved in a breath, swallowed. “...I am ready to make this up to you right now. If you will still have me.”

Thor's mouth thinned even more, but he did not answer. His arms slowly crossed in front of his broad chest. 

Loki snorted. “Just in case you did not understand. You can fuck me. Right now. I am not... I am going to...” He let out a low laugh. It sounded desperate. “...what I am trying to say is that I will make it … _pleasurable_ for you.”

Thor shook his head. His eyes went past Loki now, not even focusing on his consort opposite of him. “Years, Loki. I have tried for years. And for what? You still fight me every step of the way. I am tired of your resistance. No more.”

Loki snarled. His hand shot forward, wrapping around Thor's thickly muscled, dirty forearm.

“Thor! Are your ears glued shut? I said I was sorry. And I am not fighting you right now, am I? I said I made a _mistake_.”

Thor's mouth thinned, he stared down at the fingers grabbing his arm. His voice was a murmur. “It is not working...”

Loki wheezed. “What else will you have me do? Get on my knees and beg?”

Silence. Thor just stared at him with dark blue eyes. 

It was as if their roles had been reversed.

Loki hissed, falling onto his knees, crashing painfully onto the cold stone. His eyes never left Thor's face, even as he winced. “Fine. There you go. You have me begging. While I am down here, will you need me to kiss your feet? Suck your cock? What?”

Thor blinked, then evaded his gaze. “Get up, Loki. Begging does not suit you.”

Loki snapped, tears of frustration threatening to spill over. “I know that! But you are not listening.” His voice faltered. His emotions were threatening to take over again. He swallowed, hard, then stared up at the Odinson. “I am offering myself. Right now. If I do not please you, you can kill me afterward. Just give me this last chance. Please.”

Thor's eyes widened for a fraction, and he blinked.  
The scowl left his face.

“Kill you? How...” He seemed genuinely surprised. “How can you believe I would still kill you after all this time? Is this why...?” He swallowed, shook his head. “By the Norns... Loki, get up.”

Loki stared up at him, stubbornly resting on his knees. His hands were fisted, droplets of sweat slowly making their way down his forehead. 

Thor sighed, carded a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead. “ You don't have to worry. I am not going to kill you. But I am... considering revoking your title of consort.” He looked down at Loki, still kneeling at his feet. “I can make you comfortable in a small room in the guard's wing. Your freedom would be... diminished, but you would not live in the dungeon. You'd be allowed to visit the gardens twice a week. And your life would be free from my unwanted… attention.”

Loki let out a small laugh. His hands were curling into the silk covering his thighs.  
That might have been a good choice a long while ago. But not anymore. For it would mean that he would never see Jötunheimr again.  
And he had a plan now, after all. 

Loki forced his voice to be steady. “Of course, if you so wish. Ban me away from your sight until the end of times. But before you do, I am asking, nay, _begging_ you for another chance. Let me make up my mistake. Take me to your chambers. Please. ”

Thor knelt down, staring straight into Loki's face. His voice was a low whisper. “I do not wish for an unwilling consort.”

Loki felt a relief washing through him. That was progress. He nodded. “I understand. And I will be willing. I swear this to you. I shall not… fail you again.”

Thor studied him for a moment longer, then he reached out, holding on to Loki's arm, carefully pulling him to his feet.

When they stood Thor let go of him, staring at him with a frown. Loki swallowed his pride and leaned in, pressing a languid kiss onto Thor's mouth. The Odinson tasted of dirt, sweat, wood-smoke and horse. He licked along the warm mouth like a cat, then slid his tongue between the lips, into the hot cavern past his teeth. 

Then, very slowly, he withdrew. 

“Take me to bed, Thor.”

Thor stared down at him, his eyes darkening. His breathing was a little more labored. He cleared his throat, his eyes gliding down his own body, covered in dirt and blood. “I need to take a bath.”

Loki nodded. He very much agreed. “I can wait.”

Thor studied him for a moment longer. Then he let go, stepping to the side. 

“Please. Come on in.”

And Loki followed Thor into his chambers. 

 

x

 

Loki waited on Thor's bed, fingers curling into the duvet.  
He had taken a quick look around, but nothing held his attention save for his own thoughts.

This was really it. 

Thor was going to bed him. 

Maybe, _maybe_ , the Odinson would prove to be as big of an idiot at mating as he was with so many other things, somewhat awkward, somewhat oafish. A stumbling, stuttering fool. And then, _maybe_ , his own body would not react to the clumsy attempts of rousing him.

But Loki had heard the tales. The stories of prowess the Odinson displayed in his bedroom. They had been whispered in hallways and mentioned in hushed conversations for years. It was said that Thor had taken many lovers, male and female, and he was known for his ability and stamina when bedding a partner. 

It worried Loki.

Furthermore, he knew his own body rather well.

He always had been... eager.

That was a clear concern.  
In his youth, Loki had spent many evenings touching himself, and he knew how reactive he was, how quick his cock was to rise and spill when handled. And even though he had hardly pleasured himself since being forcefully ergid, Loki had woken from dreams several times that left his cock and cunt swollen with fleeting thoughts he could not remember.

What if his body turned traitor to his mind, and find pleasure where there should be none?

Loki's head snapped to the side when he heard the door to the bathing chambers open.  
Thor was standing in the doorway, naked, little droplets of water running from the tips of his wet hair, snaking down his skin, dripping to the floor.

The Frost Giant's mouth went dry as he stared at the thickly muscled body, swallowing hard when his gaze fell down to Thor's still flaccid cock. 

It was rather... substantial. 

Thor walked towards him, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. He was holding a small, corked bottle in his other hand, a moment later throwing it onto the bed with ease. Loki's eyes followed it, starring at it for a moment.  
Oil.  
Loki's eyes fell shut for a moment. Then he looked back at the Odinson. Thor's grin was easy, eyes soft. He stopped in front of his consort, still sitting on the bed, and Loki had to tip his head back so he would not have to stare at the impressive cock dangling right in front of him.

“Why don't you take off your pants, Loki?” Thor's voice was a low rumble.

Loki swallowed. Then he nodded numbly, and slowly stood.  
Of course.  
It would be rather hard for Thor to bed him fully clothed.  
His fingers fumbled clumsily at the knot of his drawstring, and Thor watched him for a moment before he leaned in, large, golden hands covering his own.  
Hot breath washed against Loki's ear, and he shuddered. 

“Let me.” Thor's voice was slightly raspy. 

Loki slowly lowered his hands, trying to suppress the shivers of apprehension that were running over him. He watched as Thor carefully undid the strings, the color of his pale pink skin a stark contrast to his own blue flesh. Then the knot was open, and Thor leaned down, slowly pushing at the material until it slipped past the Frost Giant's shallow hips, billowing as it fell and pooling at his feet. 

Thor straightened and leaned towards him, and Loki suppressed the urge to shove at the pink flesh, to get away from the mountain of a God in front of him. He backed off ever so slightly, his knees hitting the bed behind him. 

There was nowhere to go.

Thor's hand came up to caress the side of his face, and Loki closed his eyes as the calloused digits ran over his smooth skin, rasping over scars. The heat of the touch burned into his mind.  
The Thunderer pressed himself against Loki's cool body, his mouth ghosting over the blue flesh as he caressed his face, carefully stroking his long, silken hair. Loki could feel the broad, muscled chest against his own, both arms around him, caging him. The wiry nest of blonde curls was scraping against the Frost Giant's stomach, only slightly above where his own hairless crotch was. 

Thor's thick member was shifting against his thigh, slowly filling out with blood, lengthening, even hotter than the rest of Thor's body, if that was even possible. 

Loki's breath hitched. Panic bubbled up inside him again, and it took all his effort not to let it overwhelm him. The Odinson must have noticed, for he pressed a soft kiss against his temple, whispered soothingly. “Don't be afraid, Loki. I am not going to hurt you.”

Loki's eyes flew open, narrowed. He could not suppress the snarl. “I am not afraid, you oaf. I am just...” His eyes flicked over the vast expanse of pink flesh in front of him, too close, radiating heat. “...This is... _new_. That's all.”

It was better to turn his fear into anger. Easier to work with.

Thor had frozen at the outburst, but he relaxed again at the words, laughing under his breath.  
“Well, I know how you like learning. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.”

Loki rolled his eyes. By the Norns, how he hated it when Thor tried to sweet-talk. It was pathetic.

But he was right, of course. This was his lot, after all, so he might as well pick up a couple of tricks. 

_Turn yourself into a exceptional whore, not just an average one,_ his brain whispered cruelly.

Loki pushed the thought away. 

He looked up, right into the blue eyes of the Odinson burning into his. Thor continued stroking the side of his face with slow, tender movements, but did little else. 

With a start the Jötun understood that Thor was waiting for him to make the next move.  
He had to hold true to his word that he was agreeable, for the Odinson did not want an unwilling consort, after all.  
Which meant that Loki would have to be proactive.

He swallowed hard, then raised his hands, sliding them over Thor's thickly muscled, smooth chest, all the way up to his collarbone. He hesitated for a moment, then he slid his fingers into the blonde hair that was still wet from the bath and pulled the Odinson in for a kiss. 

Cool lips glid over warm ones, and Loki tentatively opened his mouth, slicking his tongue along the warm flesh. He pulled in a breath, then pushed into the incredible heat of the Thunderer's mouth. He tasted of ozone and musk, warmth and spices and utterly...Thor.

The Odinson gripped him tighter as he groaned against him, his tongue curling around the cool one invading him. His hands pulled Loki closer, pressing his hard body against the lithe one.

Loki shuddered as he was kissed hungrily, the mouth against his sloppy and wet, hot breath gusting over cool skin. Thor was breathing hard, little red spots dancing on his cheeks, his eyes shining with need. Finally he stopped, one hand curled around Loki's buttock, the other weaved into his raven-black mane.  
His thick cock, more than half-hard, had risen and was shifting against Loki's thigh.

The Frost Giant's eyes flicked down, and quickly away again. 

He was… large. 

_No wonder it hurt the first time._ Loki's brain whispered.

Shut up.

A flash of a memory, and Loki had to remind himself where he was, that he was safe in Thor's chambers, that he chose this, that he was not going to be raped, that everything was going to be just fine...

Thor leaned in for another kiss, nibbling at Loki's lower lip while his hands roamed over the Frost Giant's buttocks, squeezing them gently. He must have felt how tense Loki had become, for he cupped Loki's chin in his hand, and looked at him with concern. “Loki. Are you all right?”

Loki's eyes shuttered shut. He took a deep, calming breath and nodded. “Yes. Of course.” Before he could belie his words by fleeing, he pressed another kiss against Thor's warm lips, and then sunk down on the bed. He slid backwards all the way to the center of the mattress, the smooth silk underneath him pleasantly cool.

Thor was staring down at him, and Loki lay back, offering himself like a sacrifice, his horns digging into the silken sheets beneath him. He blinked up at the canopy of the bed, embroidered with hundreds and thousands of stars, a whole galaxy above him. His breath hitched and he fisted his hands as the bed dipped under Thor's weight, moving towards him. 

Loki forced himself to stay still as the Odinson straddled his legs, looking down upon his spoil. His half-hard cock shifted against Loki's stomach, leaving a trail of hot pre-cum, and Loki tried not to squirm away from the touch.  
Thor did not seem to notice.  
His eyes were warm, and there was a big smile on his face. “Bless the Norns, Loki, you are so beautiful.” His voice was reverend. 

He leaned over and took the bottle of oil laying on the bed, pulling the cork out with his teeth.  
He poured some of it onto his palm, closing the bottle and throwing it back onto the bed before rubbing his fingers to spread it around.

Thor lowered his oiled hands down and carefully placed them onto Loki's chest, right into the middle of the scarred ring surrounding his solar plexus. Then he started to move them. The rough, calloused fingers rasped hot over Loki's cool skin, following the trails the tattoos and brandings painted onto his flesh in the circular style of an Ergi.  
Thor's face was that of quiet concentration, like a starving man finally being allowed to eat.  
He caressed Loki's shoulders and then trailed his fingers down Loki's arm, one on each side, weaving them into blue hands, kissing each palm. He relished in the sight for a long moment before he carefully placed them back down onto the white duvet. Then he slid his hands back up lazily, seeking out each individual circle and line decorating the skin of his consort. 

Loki felt like he was branded all over again, this time by the hot touch of his lover-to-be.

He could not think of Thor as his rapist. Not here. Not now.  
Otherwise he would shove at him and run. 

Instead Loki stayed still, breath shallow, and tried his best not to think about what was happening.

Thor smoothed his hands down over his chest, rubbing at the the velvety skin of the purple nipples until they pebbled under his fingers. He stroked along ribs and over the flat stomach, and Loki could not help but tense when they neared his flaccid cock. Yet Thor just continued on to circle his hips slowly, running his thumb over the ridges of the sharp bones under his skin. 

“So beautiful.” Thor's voice was low, an awed whisper. 

He leaned down, caging Loki's body under the mass of his own, and Loki flinched when the Odinson's erect cock pressed against his stomach, smearing more warm pre-cum onto his skin.  
Thor gave him another long, languid kiss, lapping minutely at his mouth. When he noticed that Loki had started shaking underneath him, he moved his body to lie by his side. 

Loki took a shuddering breath, and another. He did not dare to look at Thor.  
His hands were fisting into the silk underneath him, anchoring him. 

It was scary how little he had his emotions under control.  
How easily panic took over.

The Frost Giant continued pulling deep, heaving breaths into his lungs, staring up at the quilted stars above him. He knew he should turn to his side as well, to touch Thor, maybe to pleasure him, but his whole body was frozen in place.

Thor watched him, gave him time, his warm hand on his hip anchoring him into the sheets. After a while he leaned in once more and pressed a kiss against the side of his consort's face, cupping his chin. “It's fine, Loki. Just relax. I am going to make you feel good.”

The Odinson slowly got to his knees and reached out to take the bottle of oil once more, pouring a generous amount into his palm. He spread it over his fingers as he shifted, peppering more kisses along Loki's neck and chest.

Then Thor wrapped warm fingers around the soft cock nestled between blue thighs, cradling it carefully in his hand as if testing the weight.  
Loki bit his lips so hard that coppery blood washed into his mouth. Clawing his fingers into the silky sheet beneath him, it took all his willpower not to sit up and shove the Odinson away.  
He swallowed a groan. 

Thor slowly started to stroke him with sure, even movements. The touch was slipping almost frictionless with the oil, up and down, up and down, always ending with a small twirl over the glans.

To Loki's absolute horror, his body responded.

He sobbed out a breath as his cock started to rise, even as he willed it to stay down. The Odinson leaned into him once more and nipped at his neck before his warm tongue rasped down to the risen ridges of the scars on his chest. He licked and finally bit into a purple nipple with tender care, while his oil-slick fingers continued working on the slender cock in an even rhythm. He pulled at the foreskin, running the warm hand all the way down to the root, giving it a light squeeze before stroking up to the tip once more. 

Loki squirmed under the touch, the flood of sensations crashing over him, igniting a tiny fire of passion deep in his stomach. 

Thor's tongue continued to draw lazy circles onto his skin, all the way down to his groin, leaving wet trails that burned in the cool air. He hummed under his breath, muttering that “Everything is fine”, and then the hot mouth pressed against the soft skin of his thighs. Loki swallowed down the groan that threatened to escape him. 

Then there was a warm hand on his hip stabilizing him, and the Jötun could not hold back the keening sound when the hot furnace of Thor's mouth closed around the head of his cock. The warm tongue swirled around the glans and lapped at the slit, then it rasped along the side of the Frost Giant's shaft all the way down where Thor's hand was still curled around its root. 

Loki closed his eyes, back arching off the bed when Thor sucked him into his mouth, swallowing him down all the way. He tried to close his legs, wanting to tell Thor to stop when inquisitive fingers pushed past his cock and down to his cunt, rubbing along the outer lips, teasing it with his heat. Loki was glad that he was not wet yet, his female anatomy proving to be less of a traitor than his cock. 

Then the air was punched out of him when Thor swallowed him down again, nudging at the closed throat. His hands flew up to dig into the blond hair, grabbing it tight. He was not sure if he wanted to pull Thor's hot mouth off him or press him down deeper, force his cock into the tight throat, down all the way. And then Thor did just that, swallowing down around him, opening himself until the Frost Giant was fully buried inside of him, his lips touching the cool skin of his groin. The thick muscle of the Odinson's warm tongue was pressing against his cool, erect flesh, massaging him with slick movements. 

Loki squirmed, gasped. This was good, this was much better than anything he had ever experienced. But he did not want it to be like this. He did not want to be aroused when Thor took him. Yet here he was, writhing on the blankets, groaning for everything the Odinson offered him. 

He let out a desperate laugh that sounded like a sob.

Thor hollowed his cheeks and pulled up and sucked back down again, and Loki pressed his hand against his mouth, biting the soft flesh, uselessly trying to swallow down the noises spilling from him. Finally the Odinson pulled off him, dragging his fingers along his now spit-slick cock, curling them around and starting an even rhythm with his hand.

Thor crawled up along Loki's body while his hand continued to move, up and down, up and down, pressing kisses along his stomach, nipples, finally along his neck.  
Loki ripped his eyes open, aware that he was still biting his own palm to keep the sounds from spilling when Thor’s other hand gently pulled it off. He caged Loki with his body once more, towering above him, yet his eyes were soft as he thumbed off a single tear that was slipping down the side of his consorts face. “None of that now. I am not going to hurt you.”

Loki wanted to scream at him, yet he only grit his teeth.  
He was not afraid of pain, he could handle being hurt, but _this_ , the pleasure, the desire was not something he needed or wanted. Not here. Not where he was.  
Loki swallowed down the words of disdain, hips shivering with restraint as he tried not to buck into the slippery fist touching him so sweetly. 

He suppressed another sob as Thor sped up the movement of his hand, yet he could not hold back his full-body shudder. The Odinson leaned in and softly kissed him on the mouth, his tongue licking along his closed lips, asking to be let in. Thor sucked lightly at his bottom lip, and when Loki took his next, shuddering breath he slipped his tongue into his mouth, roaming it with long, languid sweeps along its walls and teeth. 

Loki's back arched between the kiss and the fast hand on his cock and he started to pant, eyes ripped open wide as pleasure slowly built in the bottom of his spine, spreading like molten lava. 

The kiss became deeper, more demanding and now Thor slowed his rubbing motions on Loki's cock until they stopped. He pressed his palm against the tip, gently spreading pre-cum in wide, circular motions before he slowly slid it down along the shaft, over the root all the way towards his cunt.  
Loki knew he was wet now, moist and slightly swollen between his legs, and he sucked in his breath when Thor rubbed two fingers over his opening, light touches that slipped along his wetness without dipping in.  
Thor hummed appreciatively and he continued the motion of spreading the slick that Loki was producing in smooth, wide circles, pressing a little harder without penetrating.  
Loki groaned and his hands flew up and gripped at Thor's arms, digging his nails into the warm, pink flesh. He made a low, pleading sound in his throat, and Thor pulled his mouth off his, blue eyes staring down at him as he slowly eased one finger into Loki's cunt.

A low sob was ripped out of Loki as he felt heat curl in his spine, his legs falling open. Thor was pressing his warm finger into him all the way to the third knuckle, and then Thor raised himself off the blanket to search for his own, straining, red cock, stroking himself as his other hand was slowly fucking into Loki. 

His voice was a hoarse, rasping pant. “You are so beautiful.”

The Jötun's spine arched off the sheet as Thor' finger moved deep within him, the tip massaging his insides in wide circles. He moaned brokenly as the motion got bigger and he shifted his hips into the movement, thighs shivering with the intensity of the pleasure. His horns caught in the silken sheets as he jerked his head to the side, the fabric ripping underneath him.  
He did not care.  
Neither did Thor.  
The Odinson gave Loki another thrust with his hand, then pulled his finger from his wet cunt. He moved over his consort, settling himself between his spread legs by pushing them them wider open with his knees,.

Loki blinked, sweat gathering on his forehead, shivering when Thor took himself in hand to guide his cock between his spread legs. The sound he made must have been panicked, for Thor leaned in once more, kissing him soothingly. “Relax, Loki, just relax. I will give you pleasure.” The Odinson rested one arm next to Loki's shoulder while his other hand slid the head of his cock along the wet petals of Loki's opening, covering it in the cool slick. He pushed slightly between the folds, just enough so he could let himself go and then lowered his hands onto Loki's cock, which had wilted with the anxiety of the threatening penetration. 

Loki's whole body tensed, and he wanted to scratch and fight and run, tried pulling his legs together, but to no avail. Another sob escaped his throat, and then Thor's hot mouth ghosted over his neck, whispering soothing words into his ear. “Hush, Loki. It's alright. Just relax. Let this happen.” His hand started stroking the Frost Giant's cock, an even, sure rhythm until it rose once again, curving towards the flat, blue stomach. 

Thor bit Loki's neck lightly, and then he slowly started pushing into his consort. 

Loki stiffened when he felt himself being breached, held his breath and instinctively shoved against Thor's chest caging him. But the Odinson just hushed him as he continued his slow but relentless slide into the cool body of his consort, his hand still moving on the blue cock, up and down, up and down, without stopping. 

Loki gasped, tensed.  
He felt as if he was being split apart.

“Wait. Stop.” Loki grit out, fingers clawing into the thick arms of Thor, trying to wiggle away, but the large body above him caged him easily.

Thor groaned and stopped for a moment, drawing in a shuttering breath. He twirled his hips lightly, nuzzling at Loki's neck, tugging at his hair.  
Then he pushed in further. “Almost...there...just relax.”

Loki took shallow breaths, eyes flooding with tears. Thor was still not fully seated and he was making space for himself where Loki did not know he had space to give. He cramped down onto the intrusion inside him, panting as the cock slid deeper and deeper into his tight cunt. Thor's hand continued to move on Loki's cock, combing the hot pleasure of being masturbated and the dull pain-that-threatened-pleasure of being speared on his thick cock.

Finally Thor was fully seated, grinding his hips against Loki's groin, pushing himself as deep as he could go. He pressed kisses all along the blue face and neck, stroked his shivering consort's hair.  
“Loki... so incredible...” He panted, placing his forehead against the cool chest.

Loki stared up at the canopy, horror curling deep within him, this had happened and it had been his choice and worst of all, he had somehow enjoyed it and now Thor was going to _breed_ him...

His breaths came too fast, and then Thor looked down at him and pressed kisses at the sides of his face. Large hands thumbed the head of his cock, as he undulated his hips carefully. Loki could feel pressure moving deep inside of him.  
“You are doing so well, Loki, You are so good for me.” The Frost Giant felt a flash of anger at the words and wanted to hiss, but then Thor pulled out almost all the way and pushed back into him, and he arched his back as if he could escape the burning cock claiming him so deeply.  
Still Thor's hand moved on his flesh with even strokes and it felt good and bad and he groaned.

“There you go.” Thor sounded so damn content, and finally he lowered both hands onto blue hips, gripping them tight. Thor groaned as he held Loki still, undulating his hips once more before he pulled out and slid back in again, careful but relentless. He ground himself deep with every downstroke, pulling out further, working himself into an even, flowing rhythm.  
Loki's hands shot up, fingers digging into Thor's back as if he could anchor himself against the thrusts that picked up in speed, biting his own lip against the sensations flooding his body.  
There was a little pain, yes, but now pleasure was curling threateningly in his spine, even though his cock was not touched anymore. He lifted his head to press it against Thor's shoulder, as if the contact would ground him.

“You're so good, Loki, so good”, and Loki wanted to scream at Thor to shut up, and then the thrusts turned sharper, harder and he whined through his nose as his cunt started to pulsate and fill with ice-cold pleasure that throbbed every time the hot cock drove into him. It was so good and he could not hold back the low moans that pearled from his lips every single time Thor fucked into him. 

It was all getting too much and when Thor let go of his hip and lowered his hot hand onto Loki's cock once more and he bucked his hips into the grasp. The motion that Thor jerked him off with was as hard and fast as his own pounding, chasing after an orgasm, and he felt it coil under his skin and force his way into his cunt.  
Loki moved his hips against the rhythm of Thor now, meeting each and every one of the sharp thrust to fill himself deeper, to fuel the heat that was building deep inside of him. Their bodies were slapping together with loud, wet sounds, underlined by guttural groaning. Thor bit into Loki's ear, then whispered, voice a broken rasp. “Just like that, that's so good, you are doing so well.”

Loki squeezed his eyes shut as he could feel his orgasm approaching. He snarled between clenched teeth: “Shut the fuck up, Thor, just shut up.” Then he bit hard into his shoulder, fingernails racking over the straining buttocks, pulling them closer. 

Thor let out a breathless laugh and then he pulled out all the way and slammed back in, hard. Loki yelped, back arching. “Come for me, Loki.” He pulled out and fucked back in hard, working his hips in a ruthless rhythm, grinding himself into Loki's cunt with every down-stroke, as deep as he could go.  
Loki sobbed out as his spine arched hard into Thor's torso, his toes curling and cramping, and then the orgasm washed over him in a thundering cacophony of emotions, washing him away. He screamed, whole body shuddering as his cunt contracted around Thor's cock that still slid in and out of him, his own cock twitching as cum painted his stomach with long, clear stripes. 

Thor let go of his softening cock and gripped his hips hard, slammed into him again and again, picking up in speed if that was even possible. Loki held on as he shivered through his own aftermath, whole body drumming with the orgasm, too sensitive for the hard fuck. He whined as Thor pounded harder and harder until he suddenly stilled, gripping Loki tighter, pulling him closer to himself.

Loki could feel the burning cock twitch inside him, and then warm seed flooded his womb, claiming him deep, _breeding_ him. He closed his eyes as he felt himself fulfill his side of the bargain. His arms slipped off Thor's sweaty back and dropped onto the silken sheets, feeling almost unnaturally calm after all the fear and panic he had been going through for so long.

Thor bucked his hips, once, twice, milking himself dry within the pliant body of his consort.

The Odinson was a heavy weight above him, breathing hard, cock softening inside of him. He nuzzled at Loki's neck, breathing endearments into his ear that he was too tired to pick up on. Finally Thor pulled out with care, and Loki could feel some of the cum slide out of him, staining the sheets. Then Thor rolled off him, falling to the side onto his back. 

Loki took a couple of deep, shuttering breaths..

So that was it.  
Thor had fucked him. Hard. And he had, somewhat, _enjoyed_ it.

_Good little whore._

Loki closed his eyes.

Thor shifted next to him, pushing himself up onto one elbow as he turned to face his consort, hand lowering onto the blue chest. He rubbed slow, concentric circles into the cold skin beneath him.  
Loki could not make himself look over, acknowledge his… lover. He had tried to be a worthy consort and did as he was told, but he did not want to see the content face of the Thunderer who had forced him to do… this. 

Thor's voice was low. “I thank thee, Loki. That was very... “ He cleared his throat, putting a bit more pressure into his touch. “... satisfying.”

Loki took a deep breath. He smelled the sharp musk wafting off Thor, the stench of sex and sperm and his own juices thick in the air.  
He did not reply, for he did not feel there was the need to say anything. 

Thor hummed under his breath, continued drawing lines onto his skin.

Loki felt himself drift, felt sleep pull at him. He did not want to open his eyes, did not want Thor to read the disgust and anger inside them. The slow rub of Thor's warm hand did not slow down, did not cease, and Loki felt himself lulled by it, by the silky covers underneath him, by the exhaustion of his body. 

The Odinson removed his hands and then the mattress shifted again and Loki blinked his eyes open.  
It was hard to think, hard to move, but he had to find out what Thor wanted from him now.  
These were not his rooms. 

“Do you want me to leave?” He really wanted to crawl into his own bed, pull the covers over his head, shut the world out. 

Thor leaned over him and then he pressed a soft kiss onto Loki's mouth, and he opened it out of reflex, breathing into the kiss.  
Thor hummed. “No, it's fine. Rest.”

Ok. 

He was to stay then. 

In Thor's bed. 

Ok.

 

Loki let his head fall back down and then fatigue washed over him, covering the despair and sadness and anger and everything else that stormed though Loki's mind. He allowed it to pull him under into sleep.


	26. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.  
> This chapter kicked my big ass. Like, majorly.  
> I had a week worth of writer block until I finally knew how to tackle it.  
> It is unbetad, cause even though my beta has had the chapter for a week I have not heard back from her.  
> And really did not want to make you guys wait any longer. So there you go. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Angst, body horror, a little bit of self-harm, humiliation. And more sex, though not explicit. More or less Loki being miserable.  
> Now that being said, it gets worse before it gets better. But it gets better soon, I swear. 
> 
> Also, it is November. And I decided to join NaNoWriMo for the first time this year. Sadly this means that the hours I usually spend every day on this story I am redirecting to slotting down the outlines of a book. You guys get maybe one more update in two weeks time, but I should be back on weekly updates in December. I think there will be another 10 chapters to this story +/- 2 or 3. 
> 
> Now enjoy and remember, kudos and comments are love!  
>  
> 
> x

Loki woke a little later that evening to Thor pressing himself against his back, warm skin against cold, arms wrapped around him tightly. He blinked his eyes open slowly, and it took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened. His eyes roamed around the unknown room, clad in shades of reds and golds, the large four-poster bed covered in luxurious silks. 

Then the memories rushed back into his mind, and he closed his eyes again. 

He had been fucked.  
By Thor. 

Right. 

Loki tried not to shudder when the Odinson pressed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades, pulling his consort closer. He shifted, a dull ache between his legs reminding him of what had occurred.  
Thor leaned over, kissing his neck, hands stroking over cool, soft skin. His voice was a soft rumble. “You're awake.”

Loki cleared his throat, opened his eyes again. “Yeah.” He rolled tighter into himself, uncomfortable with the light touch roaming his body. “What time is it?”

Thor grinned, caressing his hand over Loki's shoulder, tracing down his arm. “Just before dinner time. The maid will deliver our food to your room in half an hour.”

Loki nodded, blinked again. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “Ok.”

Thor hummed under his breath, stroking the Frost Giant's hips, pressing another hot kiss against cool skin. Then he turned, sliding off the bed.“Get dressed, Loki. Unless you want to dine in the nude?” Another flash of that toothy smile, and Loki shook his head numbly. He turned and pushed himself up, wincing at the soreness of his cunt. He stood slowly, frowned when he felt Thor's spent slipping out of him, painting a small trail of wetness down his thighs. 

He was sore and felt dirty. 

Soiled.

Thor stepped up to him, handing him his pants.  
Loki thanked him with a quiet nod, evading his gaze while puling them on quickly. He was fully aware of the Odinson watching him closely, hating how the thin material clung to the moist spent on his legs. 

It was disgusting.

When he straightened again Loki forced a smile. “I need to bathe. I am...” He swallowed. 

Thor grinned. “Covered in cum.”

The Jötun blinked, hoped his smile did not to waver. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Thor weaved his large hand into black hair, and pressed another kiss against the cool, damp forehead.  
Then he let go.

Slowly Loki padded back to his rooms, aware of the blue eyes following his every step. 

Walking into his bathing chambers and climbing into the pool, Loki felt strangely disconnected. His mind was almost empty, a stark difference compared to the panic and turmoil he had dealt with for the last couple of days. He washed himself slowly, lathering his skin with thick soap, rinsing it off.

Thor had bedded him. 

What made it worse was that he had kind of enjoyed it. 

Loki stared out the window for a moment, scrubbing at his stomach and chest,where his own cum had dried into patches of brittle flakes. 

His mind reeled.  
This has been just the beginning. 

If the Odinson held true to his word, he would take him to bed on a daily basis. Even more. 

Loki swallowed, hard.  
It had already taken so much out of him, just to force himself to give in this one time. 

What about the next time?  
And the time after that?

And after that?

Would it become a habit, his body being wrought with pleasure while his mind screamed inside of him?  
Would he have to battle his own instincts to flee each and every time?

Loki remembered that his dam, Fárbauti, had to be bred for more than two hundred years before she was pregnant with her first child, Helblindi. Of course her case was different, for she had been an Alpha for more than three thousand years beforehand, but what if... what if it took him as long to get pregnant? 

Loki swallowed.  
His eyes started to burn.

Two hundred years... an eternity. 

He took a deep breath, slowly rubbed his face, pressing his thumbs over his eyes until he saw stars twirling before him. That would mean he would have to lay with Thor thousands of times until he could get to Jötunheimr to escape. More even. Tens of thousands.

Images flashed through his mind, his body arching into the warm touch, his fingers raking over a pink back, panting and mewling as he drummed with pleasure. How he had moaned and twisted, raised his hips into the thrusts. How he had panted and how his mind had cleared, how he wanted to Thor to move faster, to fuck him _harder_....

A violent sob shook Loki's body, and as horror washed over him he scraped his nails over the skin of his arms, relishing in the burning pain. The sharp ache brought him back to the here and now. Slowly he lowered himself into the water, dipped under the surface.  
He knew he needed to be calm, not to let the threatening panic take over and swamp his mind with darkness. 

Loki came back up again, gasped for breath.

So his body had been a traitor. It would, with all probability, betray him again in the future.  
But punishing himself would not make things any better.  
He was not the enemy, after all. 

Maybe he could gain something in that his body could find pleasure where his mind did not.  
After all, Frigga had told him that there could be power in sex. 

He would have to find strength in himself, allow to feel pleasure, if that was how his body was wired. Nothing he could do about that, after all. 

Loki slowly climbed out of the bath, standing in the chamber for a moment, listening to the slow drip-drip of the water pearling off his skin, falling onto the floor.

Now he had to work on surviving. 

Keep his mind free of anger and melancholy.

Loki looked down himself, eying the rakes of darkened skin his nails had left in their wake.

That would be the hardest part. 

Not hating himself for what was being done to him. 

 

x

 

Loki stood unmoving in the bathing chambers for long minutes, his thoughts drifting, staring out into space. A knock on the front door snapped him out of his thoughts, and he listened as Thor opened, murmured words. It was probably the maid bringing the dinner. 

He took another deep breath, squeezed some excess water out of his hair. His body was almost dry, so he did not need to get a towel. He looked at his pants in disgust, remembered how the drying cum had stuck to them, and he decided that he did not want them anywhere close to his skin just to protect his modesty in front of Thor. 

Not like there was something the Odinson had not seen before anyway. 

He walked into the main room, the smell of meat and fresh bread permeating the air.  
Thor looked up, eyes going wide when he saw his naked consort coming out of the bath. His eyes flicked up and down appreciatively, then his mouth broadened into a smile. 

Loki scowled, snapped before the Odinson could speak. “Don't get too excited. I just forgot to bring fresh pants.”

Thor sat down slowly, grin never leaving his face. 

He watched as Loki pulled a random outfit from his closet, slipping into the blue cotton pants, pulling them closed with the drawstring. 

The Odinson was still grinning when Loki sat next to him on the couch, reaching for a cup of mead.

Dinner was an awkward affair, at least for Loki.  
He had not realized how quiet Thor had become in these last months. But today he was his old, chatty self, talking to no end, telling of his hunt and then slipped into his tales of bygone bravery and... of killing things. Obviously.

Loki forced himself to seem attentive, to smile and nod, even asked one or two questions that were answered first by an enormous grin and then another surge of words that seemed to have no end. 

Twice Thor stopped eating, leaning in to rub a warm hand over Loki's clothed knee, eyes sparkling with admiration. Then he went back to his food.  
Loki had to force himself to eat as well. He felt sick and faint. His mind kept switching between hollow emptiness and thoughts of disgust and horror, shrieking at him like banshees. 

But he would not show this to Thor. 

Could not. 

When they were done Thor nipped at his mead, leaning back in his seat, staring at Loki. He poured more for his consort, smiled at him when he raised the cup before taking a long drink.

“Loki, there shall be a feast tomorrow night.” Thor smiled at him, eyes warm. “I have slain a boar and a stag during my hunt, two marvelous beasts. Tomorrow I wish to share them with my closest friends.” He looked up, eyes sparkling. “I would very much like for you to join me.”

Loki swallowed. 

A feast.

This day, nay _week_ was not getting any easier. 

But it was not his place to deny himself anymore. 

He cleared his throat. “Of course. As you wish.”

Thor's smile faltered for a moment. “Only if you will, of course. However, it is to be a small affair, twenty people or less.” He raised his cup, took another sip of mead. “I just think it would be a good way to introduce you back to the court.”

Loki swallowed. He felt faint.

Twenty people.

Twenty people starting at him, judging him. Knowing who and what he was. 

And he would not be able to escape, would have to face them. 

Words of rejection laid on his tongue, wanting to spill forth. 

But Thor was right, of course. 

Loki would have to join the Odinson, at his side at official, grander meetings in the future.  
This would be much easier for the beginning.

Small. 

Intimate. 

Good practice. 

Loki nodded, returned the gaze. “I shall be looking forward to it.”

Thor grinned. “Liar. You have hated feasts always.” He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss against Loki's mouth. “Still, I am glad.”

He stayed late, chatting until well past midnight, leaving his consort tired and worn out in his wake. 

Loki slept poorly that night. 

 

X

 

The next morning when Loki blinked his eyes open, it felt like the worlds had realigned themselves, leaving him in a reality that did not quite sit right with his mind. 

This evening would be the first time Loki would have to face others as the Odinson's consort. Of course many Asgardians had lain eyes on him these past years, roaming the hallways and gardens, riding to the ice-houses.  
But this... it would be the first time he would go anywhere by Thor's side, and would have to openly submit.

Be a willing spoil. 

Bow his head. 

Loki was not looking forward to it.  
Not one bit.

He spent most of the day pacing, fretting. About an hour before sunset his maid knocked, entered with a bow of her head. She told him she was to help him prepare for the upcoming feast.  
Loki swallowed his snarl, closed his eyes to calm his mind. Then he stepped aside to allow her entry. 

She had a quick look at the Frost Giant, eyes wandering over his form. With a nod he allowed her to go through his extensive wardrobe and pick a pair of simple yet elegant light cream pants, fine silks that would flow and billow as he walked. Around the hips and ankles snaked elaborate embroideries in light blue, stylized wolves curling in spirals, biting their own tails. 

It was precious finery that would underline the brilliant color of his skin, the thin fabric clinging to his shape. It was an outfit worthy the king-in-waiting's consort. 

Loki said nothing as he took them and changed into them. 

If Thor wanted to show him off, so be it.  
It really did not matter. 

He sat in silence as the maid brushed his long, black hair with even strokes, waving many thin braids to each side of Loki's head, gathering them in the back. There she folded them in a artistic ways, curling them around each other, mirroring the circles on his pants. 

Loki watched her, his thoughts straying. 

He was wondering who would attend the feast, who he would have to face while pretending not to care. Clearly it would be the closest friends of Thor, the Warrior Three and Lady Sif. Probably a couple of soldiers. Maybe a high-ranking official or two. 

They would all look at him and see him for what he was. 

A spoil of war.

With high probability there would be people who had seen him... defiled... who had seen how Thor...

Loki closed his eyes, took a deep breath. 

This was not the time to panic. Or cry. 

He shifted, curling his fingers into his palms, pressing sharp nails into the soft flesh.  
The pain helped.

Loki reminded himself of all the books he had read about consorts.  
According to them he was a valued members of the court. That the Asgardians would honor him as the Odinson's companion, and not see a whore or a prisoner-of-war in him. 

But he knew better. 

As would they. 

He was never going to be equal, not to them, not to Thor. 

Tears burned in his eyes, and he pressed them tighter for a moment before opening them. 

The maid had finished braiding his hair and was now polishing his horns with a thick piece of cloth, rubbing careful circles over the ridges until they gleamed like mother-of-pearl. She went to buffing the thick golden rings circling the base until they shone in the light of the torches. 

Loki stiffened when she moved down to his torque, smoothing the cloth over the golden collar to clean it, working it carefully into the edging of the spells as she hummed under her breath. 

The cold snake of panic coiling in his stomach raised its ugly head, bearing its fangs into his flesh.  
Loki gasped for breath, trying to pull oxygen into his lungs.  
He felt like he was drowning.

His collar.  
Everyone tonight would see how he was bound, would know what it meant.  
That he had been castrated of his seiðr.  
That it marked him as a slave, that it forced him to bow to Thor in each and every way. 

In everything.

They would all know, and he would not be able to leave, would have to listen to their remarks, their insults, would have to pretend that he didn't _care_...

The maid stopped her ministrations, placing a soft, warm hands onto his shoulders.  
“Are you well, my Lord?” Loki realized he was wheezing, and he took a deep, controlled breath and then another, forcing his panic back into the deep, black well it came from.  
“I am fine.” He returned her worried gaze through the mirror, gave her a small nod. 

She watched him closely but did not remark any further. She finished her work and moved on to pouring some scented oil into her hands and started working it into his skin, massaging his tense shoulders until his flesh prickled with the heat of her talented fingers. He relaxed slightly under her clever touch, bowing his head to give her better access to his neck and the length of his back. 

When she was done she pulled a box of golden powder from the shelves, along with a thick brush. 

Loki stopped her with sharp exhale when she turned to step up at him. “Not the powder.”

She looked at him, eying him up and down. “It will take away the shine of the oil, my Lord.”

“No.” He was not going to let her powder him so he would sparkle like an expensive whore whenever he moved. He had not sunk that low, not yet. And unless Thor ordered him to, he would have his boundaries. 

The maid shrugged and finished his preparation by helping him slip on his golden and ivory bracelets, one of the few things he had left from Jötunheimr. When they finished his lower arms were covered, heavy under the weight of the jewelery. Otherwise she left his upper body bare, his markings and the torque the only other adoration he wore tonight. 

He evaded his reflection in the mirror and followed her outside, to sit on the wide sofa. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my Lord?”  
He shook his head, waved her away. She closed the door carefully as she left.

Loki placed his head into his hands. 

All he had to do now was to wait for the Odinson. 

x

 

There was a hard rap on the door, loud and demanding attention, just like Thor himself. 

Loki took a deep breath and steeled himself before he rose to open. 

The Odinson was dressed in a light armor, matte black, finished off with a thin, dark green cape. The color suited him well, underlining the fairness of his hair and skin. 

Loki gave a quick nod of acknowledgment, his hands digging tensely into his pants. 

Thor stepped up and pressed a soft kiss on the cool lips, running his hand along the scarred skin of his consort's shoulder. “You look very nice tonight, Loki.”

Loki forced himself to bow his head at the compliment, just like he was supposed to. Thor smiled at him appreciatively and stepped aside to offer his arm.  
He stood frozen for a moment, his eyes flicking up at the Odinson, his features revealing nothing as he placed his hand onto the thickly muscled arm. Thor beamed at him and then led him down the hallway towards one of the smaller dining rooms. 

 

X

 

The dinner was a small affair, which meant that the bright room that Thor took him to was modest, almost intimate. Loki felt a clump form in the bottom of his throat when they stepped through the door, a thick cloud of smells, roasted meat, fresh bread and heavy ale wafting through the air, taking his breath away. 

And then all eyes turned towards them, the conversations silenced. It was only for a brief moment before the murmurs picked up again, but Loki felt the stares like needles in his skin, and he narrowed his eyes into an arrogant stare. His hand gripped Thor's arm tightly, but he kept walking, head held high, shoulders pushed back.  
Some of the guests continued to stare at him openly, one of them the Lady Sif, her disdain clear in the downward curl of her mouth. But unlike Loki's fear there were hardly any lewd grins or unkind remarks. The Asgardiands seemed to show restraint towards him, probably in respect for Thor, to extend a measure courtesy and honor to their king-in-waiting, if not to his spoil.

It was a relief. 

They continued walking to the table-end where Loki saw Frigga, the mother of Gods.

She was smiling and stood, walking towards them. Her eyes were soft as she stretched out her hands, placing a light kiss to Thor's cheek when he bent down to greet her. “Thor. You look well.”  
Then she turned towards Loki, offering both of her hands in a welcoming gesture. Loki returned her smile mechanically, slipping his hand from the Odinson's arm and placed his cool palms upon her warm ones. She leaned in, offering him a soft kiss as well. “Loki. How good to see you! It has been such a long time. How do you fare?”

Loki swallowed, not allowing his mask of quiet ease to slip. “I fare well, I thank thee, Lady Frigga.” 

He knew she was good at reading people, but is she saw his inner turmoil she did not remark on it.  
Instead she squeezed his hands before she let them go. 

Thor, who had been waiting beside Loki, placed his large hand on his shoulders and led him to the head of the wide table. He waited as his consort took a seat at the bench to his right, his mother to his left. 

Loki sat, eyes roaming the room.

He felt sick with nerves.  
Just as he had feared, most of the faces he recognized. He saw the Warrior Three and Lady Sif, two war generals, some other high-ranking officials of the court. 

At least a third of the people in the room had seen him being degraded the day his father died. 

They had been _there_. Witnessed his rape.

Loki swallowed hard to get rid of the sour taste of horror that flooded his mouth. He made sure that the look on his face remained to be of cool indifference while shame and anger bubbled under his skin, clenched his stomach into a hard knot. 

He forced himself to look away from the crowd, shut out the buzz of conversation around him.  
A pearl of cold sweat made its way down his back, and for a moment he focused just on that, to shield himself of unwanted thoughts that flooded his mind.

When he felt he had his emotions back under control he looked up once more, taking another look around. It would not do to stare at the floor, like a meek, beaten prisoner. 

That would not do at all. 

The artfully displayed food caught his attention. The boar and the stag had been roasted in one piece and were lain out in the middle of the enormous table, their flesh still sizzling with heat. Baskets of bread, cheeses and fruit were set between the plates, as well as more meat of other animals, chickens and hares, pigs and cattle. 

When Asgardians ate, they tended to eat a lot. 

A servant walked past carrying drinks, and Loki waved him over to fill his cup with dry mead, waiting as Thor stood from his seat with his own mug in his hand, raising it to his guests. 

“I thank everyone for coming. I shall not bore you with a long speech. Skol.”

“Skol.” The answer came from every throat in the room, and the raised glasses were brought to lips, emptied. The waiters rushed to refill, pouring different types of ale and mead, even some wine if requested. 

Loki had taken a large swallow of his drink, and the mead was heady, tasting of dark, rich honey, tangy and thick with a hint of spice. It was very good. 

He emptied his glass, the alcohol setting in his empty stomach, spreading warmth through his whole body. 

If he had to do this, he might as well make it easier on himself. 

Thor leaned forward and dug his knife into the boar, cutting off a long strip of meat. He placed the first piece onto his mother's plate before sawing at the boar again and putting the second slice it on the golden plate in front of Loki.  
The Jötun stared at the pink flesh weeping juices, and it took him a moment to look up at Thor, nodding his gratitude as expected. 

Thor grinned down at him, then his broad hand came down to caress Loki's cheek.  
The Frost Giant stiffened at the open display of affection, but he forced himself not to let his smile waver. The disgust and humiliation that swamped him had no place on his face, was not to be borne openly.  
His fingers curled into the soft silks of his trousers, bunching them up tight until Thor withdrew his unwanted touch once more. 

The Odinson grinned at the crowd, then went back to cut off a much larger piece of meat for himself. 

Once the Thunderer had taken his own share, the guests, who had been waiting respectfully, started hacking away at the animals. They sliced at the meat with their own knifes, ripping thick pieces from the belly and ribs, the one called Volstagg taking a whole hind-leg for himself. 

Loki blinked and when a basket of bread was offered, he mechanically took a white bun that was infused with herbs, before he passed it on.

For a moment he stared at his food, then he took a small bite of the tender meat, hardly tasting it. 

“Do you like it?” Thor was leaning in, his hand coming down on Loki's back. He did not pull away from the touch and simply nodded, forcing another smile to spread his lips. 

“It is very good, thank you.”

Thor rubbed his fingers up along his skin, eyes glittering with warmth. “I am glad.” Much to Loki's relief he took his hand away. The Odinson raised his glass goblet, still turned towards Loki. “Here's to you. To your first feast as my consort.”

Loki wanted to snarl, scratch at the bearded face that looked so darn satisfied, anything but to continue to comply to his captor's wishes and further his own disgrace. Instead he waited for a couple of heartbeats before picking up his own drink, taking only a tiny nip of the heady mead. 

If Thor noticed his disdain, he did not let it show. He lowered his hand on Loki's back, pulled him in for a kiss. Loki stiffened when Thor's tongue pressed into his mouth, fully aware of everyone around them, but he fisted his hands in his lap and allowed it to happen. When Thor pulled away, the Frost Giant's eyes flicked around the table, and he noted several people staring, one or two of them grinning lewdly. Lady Sif glowered, her eyes trained on Loki, and he returned her gaze with his red eyes spraying a challenge.  
Thor continued to knead his legs, unaware of his consort's distress. 

Loki wished he could simply get up and leave.  
However, that was not for him to decide. He would have to stay until Thor had enough.  
He reminded himself of the role he had to play, to be demure and respectful, and he lowered his gaze, cheeks flaming with shame and anger. 

Loki took another deep gulp of mead, waving at the servant to bring him more. 

Soon Thor got up, impaling a big piece of flesh on his knife and took to wandering along the table to talk to his friends. His booming voice filled the room, and laughter spread along the guests as he settled between his companions. 

Loki followed his movement with weariness, surprised when Frigga moved up the bench to sit next to him. 

“Loki.” Frigga's voice was soft, her blue-eyed gaze as piercing as before. “Drink with me.” She raised her glass goblet with light wine and Loki took his own, taking a sip when she did. The mead slid warm down his throat, loosening his tense muscles. 

Frigga sat for him the rest of the very long evening, but at one point Loki stopped listening to her shallow ramblings. He nodded respectfully as he sat, back ramrod straight, eyes absent and offered random answers to her continuous long-winded stories. 

Now he knew where Thor had it from.

Loki waited patiently until Thor finally came to fetch him to bring him back to his rooms. 

And he did not resist when Thor pulled him along into his chambers and led him back to his bed.

x

 

Having sex the second time was no easier than the first time.

Well. Maybe a tiny little bit.

It was easier for Loki to lay back and keep his hands and facial features under control.  
He knew what to expect now, after all. 

When Thor took him, he was just as careful a lover as he had been the night before. He was attentive, kissing Loki for a very long time before he spent way too much energy on worshiping the flesh laid out before him, touching every inch of skin, kissing and lapping at it, not even stopping at the feet. 

He made sure that Loki's cunt was wet and ready for him by lathering it thoroughly with his tongue before he buried himself deep in his consort's body with a single, eager thrust.  
Thor murmured Loki's name like a prayer, as he sunk into the cool flesh again and again. The Frost Giant clung to the broad back as, felt the thick muscles shift underneath his fingertips, the Odinson riding his body with a passion that made the air around them crackle with electricity.

It turned out the stories of Thor's stamina and talent as a lover proved to be correct. 

His warm fingers were soft yet demanding, and he made Loki come twice before he spilled deep inside the cool cunt. 

It was utterly shameful. 

Loki's mind was blank when Thor finally shuddered with his release, grinding himself deep as his hot cum flooded his womb. His eyes drifted shut when the Odinson rolled off him, trying not to flinch at the gush of cum that followed when he pulled his softening cock from between his legs.

Loki waited for a moment, then turned to his side and curled into himself. 

He was glad of the cold numbness that had settled in his limbs, and then he drifted into a sleep without another though. 

 

X

 

Loki woke early the next morning to Thor still snoring, spread out on his belly, his blond hair fanning all around him on the pillow. He watched his sleeping captor for a long while. His mind was rallying, but he could not grasp a single thought. 

Loki felt uncharacteristically tired, worn, as if he had done a lot of taxing bodily work, which, obviously, he had not. Not unless you counted having sex. And he knew a lot of people that did that and still got up in the morning.  
Yet he felt like he could not _move_.  
He shifted wearily, feeling the itch of dried cum between his legs, realizing that he had fallen asleep right after sex one more, not bothering to wash himself. 

He should probably do that now. 

Loki let the thought linger, his own body staying damnably still, even as the thought continued to float around in his head. He stared out the huge window across the floor, watching as the sun was slowly ascending on the horizon, dipping the capital into a thick, golden light. He watched the birds fly by outside the window, listened to their lively chirping, and when Thor turned with a low, rumbling sound and sleepily put his arm over his blue torso, Loki decided it was not time to get up yet. 

He drifted back into sleep, letting it suck him under.  
It was better to sleep than to think, at any rate.


	27. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I have to warn for depression, flash-backs, panic attacks, general misery and more dub-con sex. Please take care if you worry about any of these, and skip the chapter if necessary.
> 
> This is the last horrible Angst chapter. I swear.   
> Then the sunshine and rainbows will start. Well, I might be lying, but let's just say after this things are finally heading in the right direction. 
> 
> I know many of you don't believe that this story can have a happy ending.  
> But obviously I am a genius, so no worries.
> 
> Enormous thanks to uluka, my patient beta who knows everything about grammar and commas. She also saved me from the embarrassment of posting that Thor buried his hot sock in Loki. Sigh. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are love, and it is November and dark outside and I need love like air. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Ever since Thor had started bedding Loki the days blurred together. 

The Odinson took pleasure in his consort's body two or three times a week, either in the morning when Thor woke and or in the evening, after he was done with his regal responsibilities.

It turned out, much to Loki's annoyance, that Thor was a skilled, considerate lover who could play his body like an instrument. And he was inventive. He had Loki in his own or in Loki's bed, on the sofa, once or twice on a soft rug on the floor, Loki slowly riding him. Every now and then he pressed his consort against the wall, arms slung under his knees, thrusting up into the cool body who clung to him as not to fall.   
But mostly he would lay the slight Jötun on his back, ease into him with care and rut into him for hours until he spilled. And no matter how much Loki fought it, his body almost always drummed with pleasure, relaxing into the indecent ministrations of its own accord. Every time Thor took him it became easier to relax, and it got to the point where Loki's cunt already produced slick just at the sight of his captor's heavily muscled frame.

His body betrayed him, again and again. He bucked into Thor's warm touch, jerked his hips into the hard thrusts, mewled and keened when thoroughly fucked.

Sometimes Loki hated himself for giving in so easily. 

Most of the time his mind was utterly blank. 

The day Loki came without a hand to his cock, simply by the sensation of Thor rutting into him, he could not hold back neither the tears nor the soft sobs when he washed the cum out of his throbbing cunt afterward.   
He sat in the corner of his own bathroom on the cold floor, arms slung around his knees and wept until his head hurt and he had no more tears left to cry. 

After that incident Loki took to sleeping a lot.

He did not understand why he felt so very drained, why he was so tired and _empty_ all of the time. But he was and after Thor left him in the morning Loki would turn in the thin silken sheets and pull them all the way over his head so that the servants would not see him in the nude. And he slept. 

Usually he would get up around noon, bathe and have a couple of bites to eat, chewing apatheticely on some of the food left for him on the narrow table. He still forced himself to meet with his tutor, but no more than once every couple of days or so, and he now visited the ice-houses only on a bi-weekly basis. His guards and maids, the ones that bothered to look for it, could see that the royal consort developed a sheen of misery and desperation in his eyes, a sadness in the curl of his mouth. 

But hardly anybody did look.

And Loki did not want Thor to notice the melancholy that had grasped his heart in an iron clutch. 

For it was none of the Odinson's concern. 

And while the servants noticed that the royal consort hardly left his bed anymore and his tutor was aware of his apathy, they said nothing. 

If the king-in-waiting did not notice that something was awry with his lover, it was not their place to tell him.

X

 

Time passed. 

 

X 

 

It was another night, another feast.

They were becoming part of Loki's life, slowly but steadily. 

Thor had asked Loki to attend grander affairs over the months and years, and it turned out to be easier for the weary Frost Giant to put on a mask, to walk next to Thor into large rooms, filled with people, all staring at him more or less openly. 

Some gaped.   
Some grinned.   
Some scowled.

Many whispered. 

Loki learned to stop paying attention. 

His eyes would glide over people's heads, latch on to a random point in the distance. The voices turned into background noise, all tuning into each other. At one point he simply stopped caring. Loki kept his mind blank and walked like a marionette guided by strings that were safely in the Thunderer's fingers.

He knew that the day would come that the sight of the blue-skinned, collared consort was nothing new anymore, nothing to gossip about. Until then he would have to simply bide his time. 

And maybe by then his mind would be so empty that nothing would matter anymore.   
If only he'd that lucky. 

This feast Thor had taken him to was comparatively small, fifty people or so, to honor a delegation of dwarfs that had been traveling to Asgard for trades. They had delivered their messages and were invited to meet with the Asgardian elite. It was an easy affair, small and insignificant. 

Ale flowed in generous amounts. 

It always did. 

The dwarfs, a group of twelve men and women from Niðavellir, got loud with drink. Their leader, Eitri, had been staring at Loki all evening, pointing him out to his friends who were snickering and sneering, and as the night carried on, their conversation became louder and lewder. While Loki's mind had been covered in a thick cloud of apathy, at one point he could not continue to ignore the vile remarks that were spoken loud enough for him to hear. 

Thor was wandering among the tables, as usual, to drink with his friends and chat with others, to mingle with the crowd. He left his consort to sit on his own, and Loki simply waited.   
Waited for Thor to come back and take him back to his chambers to bed him.

For that was what his life was now. 

So Loki sat, cheeks blushing a bright purple with the obscene comments that he picked up over the noise of the crowd, and he raised his head to glower at the dwarfs as they openly discussed the sex life of the Thunderer and his slave, as they called him. 

Loki gritted his teeth at the lascivious grin that the leader threw at him, and his eyes sprayed with anger when the dwarf raised his cup towards him, licking his lips in an obscene manner.  
By the Norns, Loki wished he could leave. Simply stand and make his way out of the room, force Thor to follow him.   
But of course he could not.

It would not do, after all. 

Instead he curled his fist in his lap and took another drink, waving for more when he realized he had emptied his cup of strong mead. 

He watched as Thor walked by, nodding at the dwarfs, sitting down to speak with them. Resentment stiffened his limbs, but as far as Loki was concerned, anger was better than feeling nothing at all, so he allowed it to wash through his stomach and take his breath away.

Loki watched intently as the Odinson settled between his guests, as the leader of the dwarf company slapped him on the back with familiarity. He did not even try to hide listing in to the conversation. 

“Lord Thor. Skol. We thank thee for having us.” The dwarfs raised their cups, and they drank.   
The exchange of pleasantries took a while, and then the leader Eidri delivered news of Niðavellir, offering word from Brokkr, his own brother, who had forged Mjølner from the heart of a star. 

Loki closed his eyes.   
So that's how they were allowed such familiarity with Thor.

Figures.

But even while speaking with Thor, the dark brown eyes of Eidri glid up and down Loki's body every now and then, filled with lust. Loki's red eyes were furious as he stared back, fingers kneading impotently in his lap. 

The dwarf grinned, attention back on the Odinson. “I have heard the tales of your victory against Jötunheimr and how you acquired your spoil.” Loki tensed, gripping his cup tighter. The dwarf was blatantly referring to his rape. Unsavory memories bubbled under the surface, cruelly ripped from their slumber by the words of the trader. Loki fought hard to keep them down, in the dark, deep well where they belonged, while at the same time keeping his face under control. He took a deep breath, eyes burning at the dwarf who was grinning at him lewdly. “Words of the beauty of your spoil has reached Niðavellir. And I must say, they were not exaggerated.” 

Thor smiled at him, nodding his thanks.   
He did not understand. 

Stupid trusting fool. 

Loki closed his eyes, fingernails digging into this thighs through his thin, silken pants, sharp points of pain keeping him from getting up and leaving. He opened them again to see Eidri leaning forward, face slightly red with drink. “I was wondering, my Lord, how much gold you would ask to share him with us tonight?”

Loki's breath got stuck in his throat. A hot pang of dread and humiliation mixed with white-hot anger bloomed in his chest. He gripped his cup tight enough to make him wonder if it would shatter. 

Thor's face turned cold, his eyes frosted over, his body straightened.   
The Odinson stared at the dwarf sitting opposite of him for a long moment before he stood, slowly, with measured movements. He glowered at his guests from above, mouth curled downwards. 

Thunder grumbled in the far distance.  
Within a few heartbeats, the room around them quieted, then fully silenced. It had taken only a moment for everyone to realize that the Odinson's temper was conjuring up a storm, that something had gone awry. 

The guests turned, stared, listened. 

Thor's voice was loud in the now silent hall, a dangerous edge wavering in it. “You do not bring words of disgrace to my table. You are a guest in my home. Yet you choose to shame my consort and in turn me with your vile suggestions.”

The dwarf blanched and started to stutter. He stood as well, hands raised in a peace offering. “I apologize, my Lord. I thought... he is wearing the slaven collar... And according to the stories...”

A low murmur from the remaining guests rose, people's stares flicking between Thor, Loki and the dwarf. The Frost Giant felt shame strangle him, and he wished he could disappear the way he used to, melt into the shadows to escape the scrutiny of the everyone around him. But of course he could not.   
Thor's voice was dark, and thunder cracked over their heads, making the trader flinch. “You are dismissed, dear Sir. No one dishonors my chosen companion this way. I believe you and your friends will find their way out of the hall alone, unless you need me to call the guards.”

Loki kept his head held high as the brown eyes of Eidri trained on him, filled with fury. His mask of indifference was hard to maintain, his legs shaking with suppressed resentment, but he kept his emotions under control as the dwarfs stood and left, heads bowed, meek in their fear faced with the anger of the mighty Thunderer. 

When they were gone, Thor walked over towards Loki, laying a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezing it possessively. The Jötun was aware of every eye in the room trained on them, and he turned up towards the Odinson, giving him a small nod. He knew to expect the deep kiss, leaned back to allow the warm hands to carefully stroke over his face.   
He heard the conversations around them picking up once more, knowing that the story of the dwarfs offering coin to lie with the Thunderer's consort would soon be told throughout the capital, and probably for years to come. 

Just one more humiliation, Loki thought tiredly. 

Then Thor sat down with a heavy sigh next to him, pressing another kiss to his temple. His hands had fallen on his consort's thigh, massaging it in small circles. “More mead, Loki?”

Loki debated with himself for a mere moment, then nodded. “Please.”

Another glass to forget seemed like it would be exactly what he needed. 

Maybe two.  
Three?

He had a lot to forget. 

Thor insisted they stay for a little while longer, and Loki bowed his head in compliance.   
He had no choice, after all. 

Another hour passed, and in this time Thor stayed by his side, raising cup after cup with his consort, his large hand never leaving his cool thigh. The guests that wanted to speak to the Odinson had to make their way towards them and sit by their side, and Loki did his best not to listen in to the conversations, mind emptying once more. 

He drank. 

By the time they finally left the feast it was well after midnight, and they stumbled back to Thor's chamber, holding on to each other as their feet were heavy with too much mead. 

Loki knew what to expect next.   
Of course he did. 

Thor got horny with drink, and the way he had caressed his consort hungrily as the night grew older, today would be no exception. Which was another reason Loki had not stopped the servants from refilling his cup, again and again. 

It was just another form of escape. 

At the door to Thor's rooms they kissed lewdly, Loki resigning to the demanding hands. Thor in this state would want a quick fuck, and then he would, just as quickly, fall asleep. They had been through it before.

He knew that the Odinson would not hold to his slow love-making in this state. 

Which was fine.  
It was all fine. 

It had to be.

Thor opened the door and they stumbled inside, his large hands roaming his consorts body, panting like a wicked man running from justice. Instead of making their way to the bed, the powerful Asgardian picked Loki up as if he weighed nothing and carried him over to the much closer writing desk, sitting him down on the hard wood. 

They kissed, sloppy and hard, then Thor shrugged off his shirt with quick motions. His deft fingers worked Loki's pants open and pulled them down to his knees, pushing his hand eagerly between the Frost Giants legs, fingers seeking his entrance. Loki drew back, mouth swollen from the harsh kisses. “Slow down, you oaf.” His voice was a slight slur, and he snarled as he tugged at the hand that had already pressed against his cunt.

“Sorry.” Thor mumbled, grabbing his consort's cock instead, massaging it with jerky movements. 

Loki hissed at the rough touch, but he was warm with drink and his body responded favorably before his drunken mind could catch up. He arched his back, and they were back to kissing sloppily, all tongue and teeth. Loki just wanted to go to bed, so it made sense for him to hurry things along. He opened Thor's pants with the difficulty that comes with having had too much mead, leaning heavily against the Thunderer as he was assaulted by the hot mouth and demanding hands that roamed his body. Finally the strings gave way and he pushed his cool fingers between the heat of muscled skin and the softness of clothes, roaming for the Thunderer's cock. He found it, already hard and leaking pre-cum, and he only had to give it a tuck to get Thor to growl against him.

“Need you, Loki. Need you now.” Thor suddenly pulled away, and Loki had to reach out not to fall forward, holding on to the naked shoulders gleaming golden in the light of the torches. The Thunderer swiftly sucked at his own fingers before he pushed them roughly between Loki's legs, burying one in his cunt in one, swift movement.   
Loki threw his head back at the sensation, the alcohol making him feel all lax, and he spread his legs a little further to allow the Odinson access. His traitorous body was wet already, his moist cunt allowing the calloused digit easy access. 

Loki was too drunk and aroused to hate his body at this point. 

He knew he would tomorrow. 

Thor pressed his hard body against him while his finger thrust into him with impatience, the other hand roaming aimlessly over his body, fisting into his hair. Soon Thor added another, easing it into his cunt, making Loki groan at the invasion.   
He panted harshly, and then suddenly the Odinson pulled back. Fingers wet with Loki's juices lifted and curled around the cool hips instead. Thor pulled his consort off the table and turned him around in a single, swift movement, facing him away so he could press his hot body against the cool back. 

Thor brushed the raven-black hair to the side, bit fast into the dip of the blue neck before him, knowing that Loki would mewl at the sensation. They had coupled enough times by now that the Odinson understood what aroused his lover, which parts of his body made him shudder with pleasure. He massaged the cool buttocks, spreading them with eager fingers. 

Thor took himself in hand, guiding his red, straining cock between the velvety soft skin of Loki's thighs. Loki felt the hot flesh searching the entrance to his cunt and he spread his legs a little wider to allow easier access. Then Thor's cock slid between the cool, slick folds. A warm hand came up to Loki's neck, pushing him down towards the table. He reached out instinctively to lower himself, his hips pressing against the dark wood, until he laid flat on his stomach, cheek against the smooth surface. Thor held him fast, and then pushed into Loki's slippery opening, seating himself all the way in one single thrust. 

Loki groaned at the sudden penetration. He tried arching his back up, but Thor held him down, one hand curled around the nape of his neck, the other stabilizing his hip. The Odinson ground himself deep into his consort's body, and then pulled back before thrusting back in a single, smooth motion. 

Loki closed his eyes, keening at the sensation of the hot cock sliding in and out of him as Thor set an easy rhythm. The Thunderer growled, and let go of his neck, instead curling his hand tightly around the Jötun's horn, forcing his head into an awkward angle. Loki could not move, squirming at the restraint as Thor rolled his hips. The Odinson threw his head back, lost in the sensation as he pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back into the cool, tight cunt, seating himself balls-deep.   
Loki mewled, his hips grinding painfully against the hard table with every punishing thrust. He tried to ride out the mounting unease, struggling against the restraint hold, but he could not move. The Odinson snarled as he set up a hard pace, the wet slapping of their coupling loud in the otherwise silent room.

Loki heaved for breath as Thor leaned in, pressing the whole of his hot body against him. The Odinson caged his consort, mouth next to his ear, hot breath washing over it with every sharp exhale. Thor groaned “Loki” as he continued pumping his hips, smoothly sliding in and out of his slick cunt, unaware of the mounting agitation of his lover. 

All of a sudden suppressed memories bubbled in Loki's mind, flooding him with images and emotions. 

The thick stench of blood invaded his nostrils. 

Loki keened, tried to push himself up as panic swept through him, to regain at least an inkling of control over what was happening. But Thor had none of it. He held him fast as he continued his fuck, slapping against the cool flesh harder and harder, fingers digging into soft skin. 

Another memory forced its way to the surface, and for a moment they were surrounded by people, watching them, mocking him with unkind voices. Loki's breath hitched, he ripped his eyes wide open. 

There was no one there. 

Loki let out a soft mewl as long-forgotten panic crawled up his spine. “Thor...” he whispered.

The Odinson did not hear him, lost in the throws of passion. He bit into Loki's neck, not noticing how his consort's body suddenly went rigid with fear, how he clenched down on the invasion. 

Tears flooded Loki's eyes.

He was caught in his memories, his vision now present even with his eyes open. 

_He was back at the altar, held down by force on the cold stone of Hǫrgrblóð, raped into the blood of his brother. He was being debased, defiled, and unable to do anything about it..._

Loki started sobbing under his breath, trying to remind himself where he was, that it was not happening, not really. Yet his mind had suppressed the horror for too long, and the visions overwhelmed him with their force, in how real they seemed.

Loki struggled again, fingers curling on the hard surface of the table beneath him. He could do little more than whisper as horror slashed its claws into his soul: “...don't, please don't, stop, please, please, please...” 

Thor did not hear him, grunting into Loki's ear as he continued to piston into the soft body, the slap, slap, slap of skin against skin drowning out all the other noises. 

Loki keened, and then his labored breaths turned into suppressed sobs. 

_His father was watching, snarling, accusing... traitor... dirty Ergi... this is all you are good for... not even worthy of death... and there was pain... blood... humiliation... and then the spectators started to laugh..._

Loki cried out, his whole body spasming under the weight of the visions. 

Finally Thor slowed his punishing thrusts, then stilled, still buried deep in Loki's cunt. He could feel Loki trembling violently, and it took him a moment to lean in and stroke the black hair to the side that had spilled over the blue features. Loki's eyes' were ripped wide open, staring into nothing. He could see in the soft light of the torches that the blue cheeks were glistening with tears. 

“Loki...?” Thor stared at him for a couple of heartbeats, his drunken mind trying to comprehend what was going on. Loki's teeth were chattering, and he was still begging softly between sobs,“...please... stop...” Thor felt alarm wash through him, knowing something was seriously wrong when he leaned in to press a kiss against the cool cheek, and Loki whined, a sound of pure fear pearling from his mouth. 

Thor swallowed hard, hand carding through the black hair, then he carefully pulled back, his cock sliding from the body of his consort. He stepped back, watching Loki who remained curled over the table, shaking without attempting to stand. Carefully he grasped Loki's shoulder, coaxing him to get up, to turn towards him. Instead, Loki's legs gave way, and he slowly slid down towards the floor. 

It took Thor a moment to react, then he reached out to catch the Jötun, slinging an arm around his midriff to keep him from falling. He pulled him to his feet, but it was to no avail. Loki would not stand. 

Thor stroked at the black hair again, voice troubled. “Loki! What is wrong? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” 

Instead of an answer the Frost Giant just heaved another soft sob, still caught in his horrifying vision.   
Thor looked around helplessly, then slotted his arm under Loki's knees and pulled him to his chest without effort, cradling the limp body in his arms. He carried the Jötun towards the bed, sliding him onto the silken cover. 

Loki immediately curled into himself. He was still shivering violently, and as much as he understood through the haze of his visions that he was not in any danger, he could not get himself to stop. It was as if the panic had taken a life of its own, had taken command over his body. 

Thor stared down on him, throat working. He got to his knees beside the bed, a soothing hand stroking over blue skin. His voice was slightly anxious. “Loki! What happened? Did I hurt you? Please, Loki! Talk to me.” 

Loki could not answer, teeth chattering, eyes ripped wide open. As much as he tried, he could not focus on the Odinson beside him, his mind still tormenting him with visions and images, even feelings and smells. 

_Fire... blood... altar... spectators... pain... humiliation..._

Thor stared at him for a moment longer, the smaller body shaking as if in a fit. Then he stood, hand carding through his hair. “I am going to get a healer.” 

He looked down himself, realized his flaccid cock was still hanging out of his pants, pushed it back in.

Thor hesitated for just a moment, waiting for his Loki to call him off, but there was nothing.   
Nothing but his consort in obvious distress.   
He turned, grabbed his shirt on the way towards the door, quickly pulling it over before he threw the door open. He turned towards the guard standing outside. “Get me a healer. And be quick about it.”

The guard outside reacted immediately, jogging down the hallway without a second thought. 

Thor did not watch him go, instead walking straight back into his chambers and leaving the door open behind him. He made his way back to his bed where he sunk to his knees, staring at Loki. The low, miserable sobs were breaking his heart.   
Thor leaned in, carefully stroking his hands over Loki's hair, pushing it away from his sweaty brow. He made low soothing noises, trying to calm the horrified Jötun, but to no avail. 

The healer, Eir, appeared only a few minutes later. She was carrying a dark brown leather bag, her gaunt figure dressed in a white dress. Her assistant, a young girl, blinked sleepily as she trailed into the room behind her.   
Eir immediately shooed the Odinson away to lean over Loki, taking in the situation. She checked his pulse, looked into glazed, red eyes, felt the brow for fever. When she asked Loki a question, he flinched away from her, teeth chattering, eyes roaming wildly, leaking tears.   
The healer's mouth pressed into a thin line, but she continued running tests. Her gaze bored into Thor's blue eyes for a moment before she turned back to her patient. ”I don't know too much about Jötun physiology. But I would say that he is experiencing a minor hysteric breakdown.” 

When she turned towards the Odinson she did not stop soothingly stroking Loki over his sweaty brow. Her voice was low. “I must ask, my Lord, what activities he has gone through today that brought him into this state?” Thor looked at the shivering bundle on the bed, face blushing a deep red color. “Um....” He coughed. “We have... coupled.” 

The healer's face darkened for a moment, but then she turned back towards Loki, fingers ghosting over his face. She nodded as if she had expected the answer. “I believe he is reliving a unsavory memory and seems to be caught in it.” She looked over her shoulder, gesturing towards the young girl standing off to the side. “Bring me a cup of cool water. “ Eir knelt down, rummaging through her bag. “I will give him something to soothe his nerves. It will help him sleep.” She pulled out a tiny, blue vial, holding it against the light. When the girl returned, she put a couple of drops into the water. 

She sat on the bed next to Loki, carefully cradling his head upon her lap. Her voice was a soothing murmur, “My Lord. Drink this. It will help.” Loki looked up at her with tear-streaked eyes, whole body caught in the spasms. She coaxed him to drink the liquid she had prepared, more than half of it splattering on the sheets around him. She added two more drops straight from the bottle into his open mouth.

Then she stood, gestured the girl to pack her things. She turned towards Thor. Her eyes were devoid of emotions, unreadable. “Call me again tomorrow. The drops will calm him and should help release him from his hysteria. But I want to check on him again.” She let her eyes roam up and down the Thunderer's body, her voice not betraying any of her emotions. “You should not couple for at least two days.” Her blue eyes were piercing. 

Thor nodded, swallowed. He pushed his hand through his open hair, staring down at his consort who had calmed, blinking drowsily, curled into a small ball. 

Thor felt a fist grab his heart, slowly squeezing it tightly.

What in all the realms had just happened?


	28. Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I said no more Angst, but I kind of lied. Somehow the Angst writes itself. Call me the Angst-meister if you need to. Then again, please don't.  
> Warning for this chapter: Depression. Angst. Sadness. And then weirdness happens. Which is good. 
> 
> But I swear, next chapter we are back on track, like really!
> 
> Also, as I was kind of slow writing, this chapter is not betad. Sorry about that. 
> 
> Love the comments and kudos, they always make my weekend! 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Loki woke the very next morning with a foggy mind that refused to remember what had occurred the evening before. 

His whole body felt heavy.  
He was bone-deep tired.

Loki was laying in Thor's bed, and when he blinked his eyes open, the Thunderer was sitting by the bedside, head resting in his hands. Loki shifted, and Thor's gaze shot up, staring at him. His deep-blue eyes were glazed, underlined by dark circles. He looked like he had not had a moment to sleep.

“Loki! You're awake.” The Odinson's voice sounded rough.

The Frost Giant blinked. His body was heavy, as if it was infused with lead, and for a moment he was not sure if he would be able to move. His tongue was thick, sticking to the roof of his mouth.  
He swallowed painfully.“... Water... please.”

Thor shot up from his chair. “Yes. Of course.” He walked across the room towards a table where a tray was holding an untouched breakfast and a jug of water. Thor poured a glass, then came back to the bed. He sat down on the mattress, and when Loki realized his limbs did not want to function properly, he helped him sit up. Thor supported him with gentle hands so that he could take a couple of sips. His voice was a low murmur. “Eir said that you would be thirsty. A side-effect from the drops.”

“Drops?” Loki took another sip, wetting his mouth.  
He tried to think, but it was hard to concentrate. 

How much mead did he have last night?

Thor held him, waiting patiently as Loki continued to take small sips. “Yes. You... you were not well.”

Loki looked up at the Odinson, saw that he was troubled. The whole demeanor of the Thunderer spoke of worry and something else... guilt? 

The Jötun furrowed his brow. His memories were dark and fuzzy, but slowly some of them seemed to return, if reluctantly so.  
They had drunk.  
Thor had taken him back to his room.

And then...

Then...

Visions of blood and pain swamped his memories, and Loki made a choked sound. Cold sweat broke from his pores, pearled from his temples.

Immediately Thor's hand was on his back, rubbing soothing circles onto his flesh. “It's ok, Loki. I am here.”

Loki took a deep breath, trying to keep his thoughts from skidding into dark corners, to take him where he did not want to go. Thor took the glass from his shaking fingers, placing it on the floor. The he leaned in and carefully wrapped thickly muscled arms around the lean Frost Giant. “It's fine, hush, don't worry, it's all good.”

Loki swallowed, tears that welled up in his eyes threatening to spill. His voice was no more than a low whisper. “What... what happened?”

Thor pressed a light kiss against his cheek, swaying him lightly. Loki relaxed into the soothing touch for a moment, but then he raised his gaze and saw that the Odinson looking unsettled.  
“Ah... I... you...” The Thunderer swallowed hard, a calming hand carding through Loki's hair. “You had a hysterical... fit, I guess. We coupled and it... well, apparently it brought back bad memories. You panicked.” Loki stiffened in Thor's arms, and he was held only for a moment longer before the Odinson noted his distress. Then he was released carefully, and Thor made sure he could sit on his own before he let him go. Still he did not move too far away, watching his consort closely. His voice was slightly rough. “I had to get the healer.” 

Loki closed his eyes.  
The memories, fuzzy as they were, slowly came back to him. 

Visions of blood and pain, the feeling of soul-consuming panic, all swirled in the darkness of his mind, suffocating, overwhelming. Loki wheezed out another choked sound, fingers clawing into the warm flesh of Thor's arm to anchor himself. His touch was returned, but he was not forced into another embrace. 

The Jötun took too many, shallow breaths, fighting against the panic that threatened to overtake him. The Odinson sat and watched helplessly while his mind continued to reel. Loki had to close his eyes and concentrate, focus on the warm fingers on his cool skin and the soft bed underneath his body until he finally managed to control himself once more. 

He took another deep breath, swallowed before he opened his eyes and looked up at Thor. The Odinson's brow was furrowed, his mouth curled downward. He looked as if _he_ was the one in distress.

Ridiculous. 

Loki swallowed, unsure what to do.  
His mind was so very empty.  
And his head hurt.  
He reached up to massage his temples, groaning when pain blossomed under his fingertips. 

Thor shifted. “Are you all right? Eir said that you might experience pain. She left you some medicine if that was the case.” He cleared his throat, blue eyes dark with concern. “She said that you tensed up badly enough to get a headache. Do you need it? Shall I get it for you?

Loki bowed his head. “Please.”

Thor nodded, slowly withdrew his arm from under the Frost Giant's fingers and stood. He walked towards the table and brought back a glass filled with clear liquid. He handed it to Loki who took a sip, pulled a face. 

The medicine was bitter.

He drank it without complaint. When he passed the cup back, his hand was trembling. Carefully he laid down onto the silk to rest his weary head. 

Thor took the cup, staring at it. He sat for another moment, eyes wandering over Loki's form, face tired and drawn. 

Loki blinked, and then there was another flash of memories. For the briefest of moments he could see blood and fire, felt the pain, the soul-crushing horror... but then it was over. 

It left Loki shivering slightly, eyes wide and glazed. 

Scared.

And ashamed. 

How could he have himself under such little control?  
He knew what was happening was not real. How was he not able to suppress the nightmarish visions? How could he not restrain his anxiety? 

He looked up at Thor's face, and panic stabbed him in the chest with all its might.  
What if the Odinson believed him to do this deliberately, just to shame him?

“I'm sorry.” He whispered softly.

Thor blinked owlishly, looking at his consort. “What? Whatever for?”

Loki swallowed. It was hard to return the burning gaze, the solemn blue eyes fixed on him. His mouth felt dry again. “I... I did not mean to do this.”

Thor seemed taken aback, his voice loud and shocked as he interrupted. “No. Stop it, Loki, please.” He looked helpless, his hand snaking over the covers, fingers curling over the smooth skin of Loki's arm. “Please. There is no need. It was my fault. You were in distress and I failed to notice. It is I who has to apologize.”

Loki was tired.  
He felt hollow, as if something had sucked out all his emotions, leaving an empty, dry husk. Too tired to have a discussion on who should take what blame. 

Thor's voice was still gentle, careful. “Are you all right? Is there anything else you need? Maybe something to eat? Another glass of water?” His rough fingers were careful as they stroked him slowly, as one would a spooked animal. 

Loki shook his head. He was weary. “No. Thank you. I am still rather tired. If you don't mind I would like to rest.”

Thor nodded. “Yes, rest would be the best for you now. Eir wants to have another look at you today, but that can wait.”

Loki yawned. His eyes were heavy as lead, stuttering shut. 

Thor continued to pet him carefully. “I will be here all day, in case you need me.”

Loki felt like sleep was pulling him under. “That's not... necessary.”

“It's fine, Loki. Rest now. I... ”

Loki did not hear the rest of the sentence, for sleep had already pulled him under. 

 

X

Thor sat in silence, guarding over his consort as he drifted off into, hopefully healing, sleep. He watched the soft, even breaths of Loki's chest rising and falling, rising and falling, deeper with each minute passing.  
The Frost Giant, once he had relaxed into slumber, looked peaceful.  
Vulnerable.  
The strained crease around Loki's mouth had vanished, as had the empty mask that Thor now realized had been there for a long while.

A very long while.

Thor leaned in to stroke away an errant lock of hair that had fallen over Loki’s face.

His heart hurt, as if cut into pieces with a dull blade. 

How had he not seen the pain Loki was in?

Before yesterday he would have never believed that anything could force Loki to his knees.  
The Frost Giant was one of the strongest beings Thor had ever met.  
Headstrong. Cynical. Sarcastic.

_Angry._

But not weak.  
Never weak.

But last night, Loki had knelt. He had yielded to a nightmare, so strong that it crept out of his head while he was still awake, that had thrust its claws into the otherwise so strong Frost Giant and had forced him to bow to its horror.

And it had happened while Thor had taken him, bent over a desk, caring about nothing by his own pleasure. 

Thor forced himself to watch his consort, how soft his face looked, how untroubled and calm.

Loki had not looked this way in a very long while.  
Not when he was awake. 

Thor heaved in a breath.  
He should have known that something was amiss. 

Loki had changed ever since the war.  
Where he once used to laugh out loud, he had become quiet. Withdrawn.  
And his sharp tongue, more painful than many a sword when wielded, had been silenced.  
Loki now cowered. Bowed. Gave in. 

The Jötun was no more than a shadow of who he used to be. 

Of course, there had been moments when Loki slipped off his mask, filled with passion and anger, trying to reason with Thor when he believed him in the wrong. Thor remembered how he had reacted during those times.  
First, he had threatened Loki with death.  
And then he had told him if he did not submit, he would shut him away until the end of his days, without the opportunity of ever leaving again. 

He had shot down each argument, and then, when Loki had nothing left to say, nothing left to plead for, Thor had told him that he did not wish for an unwilling consort. And Loki had bowed his head under the overwhelming force and had taken him to his bed. 

It was not like he had been left with any other choice. 

Thor swallowed, hard. A large clump was blocking his throat, making it difficult to breathe. 

How could he have been so very callous?

Once, a long while ago, he had believed that the lot he had chosen for Loki was the right one, that being the consort of the future king of Asgard was the best the former Icen prince could ever hope for.

But really, had he not instead given in to his base instincts that wanted the beautiful blue-skinned Jötun by his side, forever? That he wanted to bed him? 

And because he had the power to do so, he had?

Thor groaned, burying his head in his palms.

He never considered that the Jötun might break under the pressure instead of bending under it. 

He understood now how dishonorable his actions had been.  
How wrong.

Shame washed through him, robbed him of his breath.

How could he have subjugated someone he loved so dearly to such a fate? How could he have been so blind to cause such suffering?

And what if... what if Loki had thought of his rape on the blood altar every time Thor took him to his bed?

Thor shuddered.

He knew of soldiers who were tormented by memories of horrible events, sometimes for millennia. He had seen brothers-in-arms break down under visions that took them back to another place, another time. And he knew that these men were not only haunted once or twice by their mind, but again and again.

This meant that Loki must have been thinking about the rape he had been subjugated to at least in his dreams, but also in his waking moments. He must have, if the visions had gotten so strong that he mistook them for reality. 

And yet Thor had forced Loki to couple with him, over and over, even though he had seen the discomfort in the others eyes. He had simply believed that Loki would learn to accept his standing.

What had he done?

Rare tears gathered in the corners of the Odinson's eyes and he swallowed hard.

Carefully, he glided his hands over the silken covers, caressing the soft arm of his sleeping consort, staring at the stark difference between his pink flesh and the blue skin.

Loki had done his bidding for years. Had come to his bed unwillingly. Had lost himself in what had been asked of him.  
And yesterday, the thoughts that he had been able to suppress for such a long time had broken free. And Thor had finally witnessed the pain Loki was in, all the time.

A tear of shame slipped free, snaked its way down his cheek.  
Thor brushed it away angrily, lest someone see the disgrace of him crying.

The question now was – what was he going to do?

He could not force Loki to couple with him any longer.

There were more than enough whores and wenches who would be honored to lay with the king-in-waiting. He could even take another consort or concubine...

No. 

Thor chased away the thought the moment it crossed his mind. 

Loki was his consort.

And he had wronged him so very greatly.

What in all the realms was he to do next?

 

x

 

By the afternoon, when Eir came by to see her patient, Thor had been able to pull a mask of his own over his broiling emotions. She walked towards the bed, taking a quick look at Loki before placing down her bag. Then she woke the Jötun with a soft hand on his forehead. 

Even though Loki had slept for the whole night and most of the day, moving was just about as difficult as if he was caught in a deep tar pit. He was tired and his muscles hurt. The healer was quick and and efficient without being callous as she checked his pulse, brought a candle to test the dilation of his pupils and placed her hand on his forehead to to feel his body temperature.

“How are you feeling?” Eir's voice was soft. Her blue eyes were forceful as they focused on him, but not unkind. 

Loki swallowed, nodded. His whole body was too weak to move, and he felt sick. 

“I am...” Fine would have been too bold of a lie. “Tired.”

Her mouth tightened, but otherwise she did not comment. “Are you in any pain?”

Loki shook his head. “No. No pain.” That much, at least, was true. 

She hummed under her breath. “Have you had any more visions this day?”

He cleared his throat. “No.” He shifted slightly. “But I have been sleeping a lot.”

Eir nodded, her eyes never wavering.“Nightmares?” 

Loki frowned. “No... not as far as I remember.”

The healer pursed her lips, eyes tightening. “Can you recall what happened last night?”

Loki closed his eyes for a moment.  
He was not even sure. Everything he recollected happening was doused in pain and blood, in mocking laughter and the inability to fight.

And he knew that none of that had been real. 

Loki swallowed hard against the clump growing in his throat. 

What if he was going mad?

He hesitated for a moment, wondered if he should lie.  
But Eir seemed smart. Much smarter than Thor.

And he was so very tired.

He opened his eyes. His voice was low, strained. “Thor said I had... visions. And I remember them. They seemed very real. And I could not stop them. But I am not sure why they happened.”

Loki knew, of course, what the visions had been about. Judging by the look grim empathy on the healers face, she knew as well. Loki clenched his hands under the sheet, evaded her eyes.

Eir's voice was soft as she addressed him once more. “My Lord, I want you to rest for another day. And then I would usually suggest my patients to go into the sun. However in your case that might not be the best course of action.” Her mouth tugged into something resembling a faint smile. “When you feel well enough, maybe you can go in the gardens. Stay in the shade. Do something you enjoy. Ride out, even.” She looked at him for another long moment, then turned to pack her bag. “If you face any problems, any recurring visions, call for me immediately.”

Loki nodded. 

All he wanted was to go back to sleep. 

So he did.

 

x

 

Loki woke again in the evening, to the maid bringing the dinner.  
He shifted and turned to go back to sleep, but Thor was there, and he forced him to get out of bed, to have a meal. 

Loki was too tired to argue. 

They ate in silence, Loki evading Thor's stares, focusing on his food. He felt sick and he took no more than a couple of bites before he placed his knife back down, waiting for the Thunderer to finish eating. 

When he was done Loki raised his head and asked quietly if he could return to his own chambers, to his own bed. Thor seemed saddened by the request, but he nodded. He watched as Loki carefully stood; to Loki's endless annoyance that bled into weariness, his legs were as wobbly as a colt, and his knees buckled with fatigue before he even managed to cross half of the room. 

Thor was by his side immediately and slid his arm under Loki's armpit, warm hands curling protectively around the cool body to help him, step by slow step. 

In his rooms, instead of allowing him to lay back down immediately, the Odinson forced Loki into his bathing chambers, murmuring that he had not washed in over a day.  
Loki did not care.  
But his faint arguments were simply ignored, and when it was clear that Loki's body was not yet his own to command, Thor stripped them both before carefully lowering him into the pool. The Thunderer followed him inside, and he grit his teeth when the cold water passed his thighs, cursing under his breath. “Damn freezing...”

Loki smirked for a moment, but then fatigue washed over him.

He allowed Thor to wash him, staring blankly at the wall opposite of him.  
He could not grasp a single thought. 

He was just so very tired. 

Loki was glad that Thor was there to help, for he was fairly sure he did not have enough energy left to heave himself out of the water, and he was too fatigued to towel himself dry. He simply stood while Thor rubbed the soft cotton along his body, lifting his arms like a marionette.

His mind was empty. 

He allowed Thor to lead him back to his own bed, and curled naked on the covers, eyes staring sightless against the opposite wall. He hardly noticed Thor pulling a sheet over him, and then his eyes shuttered closed as sleep dragged him under once more. 

x

The next morning he was woken by a maid that brought a light breakfast, and under her watchful eye he forced down a couple of bites of bread. The food felt like lead or stone once it settled in his stomach, but he continued chewing in silence as she watched on.

Then he went back to bed.

His mind was blank, and when he tried grasping at a though, he was subjected to a turmoil of dark unhappiness that pulled him down into a deep well of despair. 

So Loki stopped thinking. It was easier that way. 

He closed his eyes.  
Sleeping for the rest of his days sounded like a rather appealing idea. 

It would help to forget what was happening to him, to his life.  
How wrong everything was.  
Always had been, since the moment he had been born.

He never had a chance.

Loki curled back into his bed and continued to sleep. 

x

Frigga came by on the second day or so, but he refused to speak to her. He did not want any well-meant suggestions on how he should live his life, on how he should bow to her son.  
He stared at her, into her large, sad eyes, and let her words wash over him without grasping them, without answering.  
He was glad when she left and he could sleep some more. 

x

On the fourth day Thor brought along a small plate filled with Iced meat that was slowly melting, as well as a bowl of winter-grain gruel, the main staple of his childhood. Loki stared at the delicacies that were so hard to come by. The Odinson sat on Loki's bed which he hardly left anymore, coaxing him to have a couple of bites, watching with sorrowful blue eyes as Loki ate only a little. The food tasted bland on his tongue.

When Loki tried to turn away, plate still mostly full, Thor stopped him with a large hand on his arm. His voice was soft, but earnest. “Loki. Please. You need to stop this.”

Loki sighed, wearily opening his eyes. His bed was soft, and trying to have a conversation seemed like way too much trouble. “I am fine. I am just tired.”

Thor shook his head. “You have been sleeping for days.”

Loki tried to turn to his side again, pulling his knees towards his chest. 

Thor watched him, waiting for an answer. When he realized he was not going to get one, he pushed his hand through his hair. “Tell me what you want me to do. You need to leave the bed. Do you want to go outside? I could take you for a ride, maybe?”

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want to sleep. Go away.”

Thor leaned in, carding his hand through Loki's hair. His voice was low, distressed. “I am so sorry, Loki. I simply... I did not realize...”

Loki shifted, pulled his knees even closer.  
No. Of course not. 

Why would you?

The hand continued to tug at his hair, petting him, caressing him slowly, carefully, as if he was precious and could break at any moment. Loki tried not to squirm away from the touch. He realized Thor would not leave until he answered. 

He took a deep breath, kept his eyes closed. He was way too tired for a discussion. “It's fine.”

Thor made a soft sound, his hand rubbing over the arched blue back. “No. No, it really is not. I am sorry. Do you understand? I am sorry about everything.”

Loki blinked his eyes open. He stared at the Odinson leaning in above him, tried to force a tired smile. “Ok. I understand.”

He just wanted to be left alone.

Thor cleared his throat. “I... I am not going to touch you anymore. Ok? I am not... I don't want you to hurt.”

Loki blinked, stayed silent. 

You have hurt me for years.  
And you are still touching me, right now. 

He said neither of these things out loud. 

Instead he sighed deeply. “It's ok, Thor. Just... I am tired. Please. I wish to sleep.”

Thor swallowed. He looked down on his consort, how he was curled into a tight ball, arms slung around his upper body, face tilted towards his knees. It was a protective position, meant to keep him away. 

It hurt him seeing Loki so unhappy, so melancholic, but he he knew that it was mostly his fault.  
And he was not sure what to do about it.

Slowly Thor stood, backed off. 

He would allow the Frost Giant his time to rest, for another week or so.  
And then he would have to speak to Eir. 

He left, helplessness nagging in his stomach. 

Just before Loki drifted back to sleep, he wondered absent-mindedly what Thor meant to do with him now that he told him he would not touch him anymore.  
Did that mean he did not wish to lay with him ever again?  
Would he then place him into a cell, just like he said, alone until the day he died?

Exhaustion took over. 

Whatever happened, it would happen. 

It wasn't like he had any kind of say in it, anyway. 

It was much easier to sleep than to think.

x

Loki woke in the middle of the night to a sharp pain ripping through his belly, taking his breath away. He whined, speechless, the agonizing cramp overwhelming until it ebbed down after a couple of minutes. 

He heaved for breath for a while, listening to his body, but apart from a faint ache that radiated from his belly to his limbs, there was nothing.  
When that disappeared he went back to his deep, dreamless sleep.

 

x

 

Loki woke the next morning, just after sunrise.

His stomach was growling somewhat fiercely, and when he slowly peeled himself out of the sheets and had a look at the table, he noticed that the maid had not yet come to bring his breakfast.

Loki shifted, yawned. He blinked, looking out the large window that was stretching across the wall just in front of his bed. 

Only the first of the suns had risen.  
It was really early. 

Loki turned, burrowed his head into his pillow, hoping to drift back into sleep. However, he was surprisingly awake. He shifted and turned a couple more times, and finally, with a huff gave up and peeled himself out the tangled sheets. Loki got up slowly, to let the dizziness that came with laying down too long fade before he stood. 

He felt strange. 

His body was drumming, like a heartbeat, steady and fast. It was as if a current was running under his skin. Loki raised his hands, rubbed the flesh of his arm. The place he touched felt as if little flickers of power radiated, as if his seiðr was still part of him, running over his body. 

The thought of the magic that had been taken from him filled him with a short bout of anger mixed with sadness, both emotions stronger than he had felt in a long while.

Huh. 

Loki brought his hand up to touch his own forehead. He frowned.  
His body temperature seemed to be slightly elevated, though it was hardly noticeable. 

Maybe he was getting sick?

Loki huffed, licked his lips. 

His stomach was grumbling.  
He was _starving._

He hesitated only for a moment before he pulled on a thin pair of white cotton pants. Then he gave the bell-pull a sharp tug. When the maid arrived only a couple minutes later, Loki stood. She blinked at him, obviously surprised that he was up already.

Loki gave her a tight smile when she entered. “I wish for some breakfast.”

She bowed and stuttered, eyes large. “Of course, my Lord. I am sorry, it is just that usually you do not break fast until much later.”

Loki frowned. “Yes. And today I am up earlier.” He licked his lips. “Now I was wondering if you still had some of the winter-grain you brought a couple of days ago?” 

She blinked, mouth opening and closing. “I am not sure, my Lord.”

Loki smiled at her. “If you could please find out. If there is still some, have it made into a gruel. And please bring meat. And bread. As well as some juice.” 

The maid nodded, eyes narrowed with slight confusion.“Anything else, my Lord?”

Loki shook his head. He could eat a horse, he was that hungry. “No, that would be all. Thank you.”

He watched as she left, then went to take a bath, to allow his heated body to cool down.  
He really hoped he had not caught a sickness.

Getting into the pool, the water felt like liquid silk. Loki relished how it slithered over his body, caressed his limbs, tugging at his hair. It felt good. He sighed, reveled in the feeling for a moment. He washed off the creamy soap slowly, then climbed out the pool. 

When he dried himself off, he noted how the softness of his towel was sending another wave of sparks over his body.

Loki stopped, staring at the cloth in his hand.  
This was highly unusual. 

He swallowed dryly. 

Loki put the cloth down, picked up his comb. Carefully, he pulled it through his wet hair, and he groaned when the pleasant tug tingled on his head, sending a pleasing shiver down his spine.  
His eyes flew open. He placed down the comb, staring at it with narrowed eyes. He could feel the place where the teeth had rasped along his scalp, little lines of sensation drumming with the beat of his heart. He could follow the flow of blood under his skin, his fingertips and toes tingling with warmth. 

Something was wrong.

His body was acting strangely. He felt vulnerable, sensitive, tender.  
Though not in a bad way.

This was all very disconcerting. 

For a moment he wondered if he should call for Eir, but quickly he abandoned the thought.  
What would he tell her?

That he was feeling good? 

That there were too many sensations, though none of them were bad or painful? And that it worried him because he was not used to feeling that way? Because he had been miserable for such a long time and did not know how to cope feeling otherwise?

Loki was still pondering this when a light knock ripped him out of his thoughts, no doubt the maid finally bringing his breakfast. He heard her enter and quickly pulled on his pants, bound his wet hair into a bun at the base of his skull before stepping into his sleeping chambers. 

His stomach grumbled again, loudly.  
He was ravished.

The maid gave him a quick nod as she placed down the tray. “The kitchen still had some of the winter-grain left, my Lord. I brought sweetened gruel.”

Loki thanked her, sat down. He watched her leave before he turned towards his food.  
His mouth was watering as he reached for the bowl of gruel. The current of energy was still running under his skin, and when he leaned forward he almost expected a little spark to ignite under his fingertips.  
But nothing happened.  
He dipped a spoon into the winter-grain and ate. It was ice cold and sweet with honey, infused with apples and spices. It was utterly heavenly. 

Loki groaned.

Then he stopped.

What in all the realms was going on?  
Food had been so very bland, for such a long time now.

He stared at the bowl in his hands. 

Maybe it was simply that he had slept enough. He had been in bed for days, after all, and that was unusual already. Maybe the melancholy was slowly getting better.

He took another bite. It was still amazing. 

Or maybe he was really sick. Or he was in shock. 

Loki continued to eat, finishing the bowl, then moving on to bread and meat, finally eating an apple, washing it all down with water and juice. His stomach, unused to so much nourishment, stretched and finally stared to hurt. 

And still Loki felt good. 

After breakfast he considered going back to bed, but with his body brimming with energy he knew that sleep would evade him. He rocked on his feet, realizing that he needed to _move._ A soft breeze came in through the open window, caressing his skin, making the soft cotton of his pants shift against his body. 

Maybe he should go for a walk.

Yes. That sounded like a good plan. 

He packed a random book, placed two more apples and a small flask of water into a bag, and made his way out into the gardens. 

The heat of the suns were still moderate so early in the morning, and while he walked he relished in the pebbles shifting under his feet, the cool wind against his skin. He did not go too far, but stopped in a tiny hidden garden, where an enormous cherry tree reached its branches far into the sky.  
Loki settled in its shade. He simply sat for a moment, listening to the loud thudding of his heart, how the blood flowed under his skin. He closed his eyes.  
An array of sensations assaulted his senses.  
The grass underneath him was soft like velvet, a stark contrast to the roughness of the bark against his back. There was a bug crawling over his left arm, strands of his hair that had escaped his bun tickling his neck. Small patches, where rays of sun had broken through the leaves, dappled his body, slightly warmer than the rest of him. Still the breeze that kept him cool, stroking over his body like the touch of a lover.  
Loki opened his eyes, looked up into the sky.  
The stars were still sparkling brightly with only the second sun having come over the horizon. The bird were flitting around, like little flying gemstones colorful in the morning light, and the cherry tree above him had finished blooming, the silky flowers littering the floor all around him. 

Beautiful. 

Loki relaxed and just watched the world, his book forgotten. 

He had not taken the time to appreciate beauty in its form for a long while. 

Strange.

All of it. 

x

By the time Loki made it back to his rooms it was almost sundown. He had asked a servant to bring him lunch under the cherry tree, and then he had simply spent time walking through the gardens, sitting and reading, plodding through streams and watching the current tugging at his wet pants. He even sat at the border of Asgard and dangled his feet over the edge, munching on an apple, throwing the core into the eternity of space. 

And he enjoyed every moment of it. 

When he walked back, he concentrated on the different surfaces under his feet. The gritty sharpness of pebbles, the softness of fresh moss versus the slight stubble of elder grass, the slick cool of marble contrasting the slight roughness of the mosaics. 

By the time he opened the door to his chambers he saw that his dinner had already been served, and that Thor was sitting on his sofa, looking concerned. The Thunder stood the moment Loki walked through the door, eyes bright with worry. “Loki! Where have you been?”

Irritation bloomed in Loki's stomach. He swallowed it down, raised his head. His voice was cool. “In the gardens. You have not locked me in yet, and Eir told me to go out and enjoy myself. Do you not remember?”

Thor blinked, cheeks flushing dark pink. “Yes. Of course. I was just...” He pushed a hand through his hair, cleared his throat. “Uhm... ok. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Loki nodded, staring at the food. “Sure. It was fun.” 

He was starving. Again. What in all the realms was wrong with him?

Thor looked at him strangely. “Well, have a seat.” He watched as the Jötun sat, seating himself opposite of him. “You seem to be doing better.” His voice was careful, low. 

Loki bowed his head, pouring two mugs of mead, passing one to the Odinson before taking a sip himself. It was dry, spicy, rich with honey. It was good. “I am.”

He looked up, seeing Thor's eyes still on him. “Good. That's... good.” Thor sounded hesitant. 

But he did not complain.

Thor stayed with him for just another hour. 

Then he had to leave, for there was a feast, to honor the new rulers of Svartálfheimr who were visiting Asgard for peace talks. 

Loki was glad for the solitude. He sat by the open window, feet dangling over the ledge with a book he had not yet had the chance to study. 

He read until well into the night. 

x

The next day Loki was even hungrier, and his body was starving for touch.  
Everything was overwhelming, sensations, light, colors, shapes.

x

The morning after Loki woke with a fever.


	29. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay guys.  
> Life happened, I am currently interviewing for jobs and that stressed me out cause I have been out of work for a while. And then I got sick.  
> Figures. 
> 
> For this chapter I need to warn for explicit porn. If you are not here for the slash, I would skip it. Also, as things got out of hand as usual, I had to split this chapter into two, just to make it more manageable. Which means more porn next week! Yay! And chaper 30 is already done and will be posted by next Thursday. 
> 
> Unfortunately this is not betad, cause just like me my beta has a life, and when she does not have the chance to check my work within 4-5 days, I post it regardless. Please forgive me for any mistakes you may find. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are love and much appreciated. 
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

When Loki woke, the first thing that occupied his mind was that he was hot.  
Stifling. 

He squirmed from under his blankets, and huffed when the air that hit his skin did not feel any cooler, the opposite in fact. It felt as if the room was on fire. He rubbed his hand over his face, realizing that his own skin was _warm_ , maybe not as hot as Thor's, but much warmer than usual.

He was feverish. 

Probably sick after all. 

It made sense, the way he had been feeling these last couple of days. 

Loki dug his head back into the cool silk of the bed, squirming when the heat continued to pound, in his chest, under his skin, between his legs...  
It felt strange.  
He wanted it to stop.

He whined, and when he touched his skin, slippery with sweat, another surge of electricity cursed through him. 

His cock twitched. 

Loki ripped his eyes open. 

He swallowed dryly, looking down to where his cock lay, thick and heavy, against his thigh. A slow, rhythmical pounding of warmth washed through his body, starting from his pelvis, all the way through his chest, to his fingertips, toes and top of his head. 

What in all the realms...?

He shifted, groaning, and realized his cock was getting harder just by the sensation of sliding against his overheated, sweat-slick skin. The silk underneath him seemed almost rough, damp as it was, the slight breeze coming through the open window soft like a caress.

Above all, his temperature was rising.

Loki groaned.  
Understanding dawned on him.

The sensations, the hyper-awareness of his body, his increased appetite, and now... now his sexual need. 

The Norns be cursed.

He was in _heat._

Loki snarled exasperated, pushing his head back into the pillow, clawing at the sinfully expensive material. 

Why now?

Just when the Odinson had told him he would restrain himself, would touch him no more. That was when his body decided it was a good time to become fertile, to be _breedable._?

Loki gasped. He turned onto his back, his hand falling onto his cock by its own accord. 

The word alone, _breeding_ brought up the image of Thor slowly sinking into him, fucking and filling him with seed, over and over, until his stomach swelled with it, until he could take no more. Loki bit his lip. Longing washed through his pelvis, a hot pulse of want surging like fire between his legs. It made his cock jump against his stomach, a small droplet of pre-cum sliding from the tip. 

Well fuck. 

Loki took himself in hand, something he had not done in a very long time, not in years to be exact. Slowly, leisurely, his hand glided along the velvety skin, from his glands down his shaft, caressing it. He was so extremely sensitive to the touch, and his mouth fell open, his eyes squeezing shut with the sensation. His other hand slid over his chest to his nipples, and he groaned under his breath when they pebbled under his fingers, little fires burning under his fingertips. 

He soon came with a shout, catching his seed in his hand.

Loki panted, and realized that his cunt felt thick and swollen. Empty. And his need to be claimed, bred, taken was still there, maybe stronger now than it was before. 

Loki clenched his eyes closed and traced his fingers past his wilting cock, rubbing them over the slick between his legs. He shuddered, then pushed a finger inside of himself. A current surged through his body, and another mewl pearled from his lips. His cunt was hot compared to his tepid skin, tight and throbbing with the urgency to be filled. He raised himself onto his knees and pushed his finger deeper, massaging his insides with slow, even strokes. His cock twitched, aching to rise again, and Loki dropped his hand, sliding his palm over his glans. His cunt contracted around him, and he grit his teeth.

His finger was too small. He pushed a second one into himself, all the way inside, gasping against the coolness of the pillow beneath him.  
It was not enough. 

By all the realms.

He needed Thor. 

Loki snarled. 

How embarrassing.  
And utterly infuriating.

Another surge of need washed through him when the image of the naked form of the muscular Odinson flashed through his mind. And then his thoughts focused in to the large red cock jutting from a nest of golden curls, thick and heavy with urgency, how it would sway from side to side as he would walk towards him, and then he would mount him, breed him, fuck him until he _screamed..._

Loki grit his teeth, tentatively pulling his fingers from his slick cunt. 

Slowly he peeled himself out of his blankets, careful not to touch the soft silk with his cum-smeared hands. 

He needed to cool down. 

Loki huffed out a breath and walked to the bathing chambers where he slid into the pool without a moment of delay. He was hoping for some kind of relief, for the cold wet to lower his temperature, for the water to wash away his unwanted urges. He immersed himself, floating under the surface, trying to ignore the steady beat of fierce longing between his legs. 

It did not work. 

The cold water did little to calm his craving, nor did it distract his mind from his body pulsing with something he had no control over. Loki snarled, frantically thinking about his options, what he could do, how he could handle this. 

There was really only one solution. 

And he did not like it. 

Loki climbed out of the bath, if possible even more aroused than he was before.  
He brushed his hair with sharp, even strokes, pulling it into a tight bun to keep it from blanketing his back, making him even warmer than he already was. A quick look in the mirror showed his face flushed a light purple, tinting his cheeks darker than the rest of his face. His eyes were burning. 

Loki felt another twinge of warmth between his legs, and he forced his hands down at his sides, as not to allow them to slide down and touch himself. 

Ridiculous. 

He huffed and walked back into his main rooms where he chose an extremely thin, almost see-through white pant and slipped it on without hesitation. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
Then he stepped up to the bell-pull and gave it a sharp tug. 

He was going to send someone to bring Thor to him. 

After all, he did not imagine that it would be hardship for the Thunderer to fuck him. 

x

He did not have to wait long.  
The servant was with him in a couple of moments, and even though she took a long, calculating look at Loki, she left with his instructions to tell Thor his consort needed to speak to him.  
Urgently. 

Loki started pacing.

To his own frustration he knew only very little about Jötun heat. The way an Ergi's fertility functioned was not something he had been taught as a child, after all. Not under his father's ruling. When his sexuality first had blossomed, he had taken some books from the Asgardian library, but the few texts that mentioned the Jötnar mating ritual were vague, and in some cases even conflicting.

He could be bred. He just had very little knowledge on the how.

However, Loki did know a heat lasted between two days and two weeks. It was (probably) started by the release of a single fertile egg into a womb that had been stimulated by coupling. It was probable that an Ergi suffered the heat until the egg was fertilized. Which meant the longer he remained barren, the more desperate he would become. 

Loki rubbed his temples, skin under his fingertips sliding over a light layer of sweat. 

At least now the way his body had been feeling these last couple of days made a whole lot more sense. It must have prepared him by releasing endorphins to counteract the melancholy he had been caught in. And it had increased his appetite, for coupling would take a lot of his strength and energy. 

Loki's head snapped up when he heard steps outside, but they simply passed by.  
He settled again, huffing. 

He knew that he would not be able to get through this alone, and it bothered him.  
It bothered him that he _needed_ Thor.  
And that the Odinson finally got what he wanted: Loki in heat, so he could breed him until he was with child. And then he would never be able to leave again. 

A child....

Loki's cunt throbbed at the thought, lust like a hot knife burrowing into his pelvis, pounding with the beating of his heart. He rolled his eyes at his body's instinctive reaction, shifted on the sofa.  
His cock was hot and heavy against his stomach.  
It was hard, but he deigned to ignore it.

This was going to happen, there was really no way around it. 

But Loki hoped he could do this on his own terms, spell them out if need be. Before he lost control over his mind and body, before Thor would call the healer for another humiliating discussion about Jötun anatomy that no one here understood, not even himself. 

Loki clenched his fists. If Thor made him beg for his cock, he would murder him.

 

x

 

It took another fifteen minutes before he heard heavy booted steps make their way down the hallway, came to a stop outside. A hard knock echoed through the room. 

Loki wiped at the sweat on his brow, grimaced at the wetness he found there.  
His cunt was throbbing.

“Come in.”

The door banged open without a second delay. Thor stood in the entrance, features creased with concern. His eyes roamed the room until the found Loki who was still settled on the sofa. His voice was pressed. “Loki. I was told you needed to see me urgently. Is everything all right?”

Loki thinned his lips, studying the Thunderer towering in front of him. For a moment his eyes fell to the Odinson's crotch, staring hungrily. His cock twitched in anticipation, already heavy between his legs. 

_Stop._

Loki shook his head slowly as he licked his lips. “No. Nothing is all right.” He stood to face Thor, whose blue eyes had widened in alarm. Loki straightened his spine, raised his head. His voice was cool, collected. “I am in heat.”

Thor blinked at the answer. He opened his mouth, swallowed, closed it again. He was standing at a respectable distance, and now his eyes roamed over Loki's body, studying him. “In heat? What? How is that...?”

Loki crossed his arms. A pearl of perspiration slid down the side of his face. He rolled his eyes at the question, and when he answered he tried his best not to snarl.“I fucked the stable boy. How do you think it happened?” He shifted slightly, suppressing a moan when the soft material of his pants shifted over his hyper-sensitive cock and cunt, rubbing them almost painfully. He did not even need to look down to know that his erection tented his pants.

Nothing he could do about that now.

Loki raised his head a little bit higher, the nails of his fingers digging into the soft skin of his palms. He wanted to compose himself, to stay focused as long as possible.

Thor swallowed, carefully closing the door behind him without further stepping into the room.  
When he turned back to face Loki his brow was creased with unease. “I am sorry, Loki.” He stared down at his consort's obvious arousal, swallowing hard. “I am busy. The new ruler and ambassador of Svartálfheimr are waiting for me in the throne room. The meeting has been set for months. I can't stay.” His eyes flicked up to his consort's face which was flushed, eyes shining with fever. 

Loki snorted, wiping away the sweat from his brow. He was way too warm, and his cunt was throbbing in the rhythm of his heartbeat. It was hard not to look at Thor without imagining him naked, his thick cock, how he would mount him, breed him...  
A trickle of slick ran down his thighs. 

_Concentrate._

Loki huffed, pressed his nails deeper into his palms. He strained for his voice to be calm, collected. “I understand that this is not ideal. You are a king-in-waiting, you have a busy schedule. But I am in heat.” His eyes blazed and narrowed. “I hurt. I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Thor shifted uncomfortably, his large hands clutching at his pants, kneading the soft material. Loki tolled his eyes. “I won't need you long. Half an hour at the very most. Then you can go back and focus on politics or whatever you call it.” 

Thor cleared his throat, avoiding Loki's hard gaze when he spoke. “The last time I laid with you, you were distressed. I don't want... I would not want to hurt you again.”

Loki let a smile spread his lips. A thick drop of perspiration leisurely rolled along his spine, adding to the sheen already covering his body. He spoke slow, as if Thor was a small child unable to grasp simple concepts. “I will not be distressed. I am in heat. I crave to be mounted to a point that I am in pain.” 

Thor still looked uncertain, and Loki felt a hot wave of indignation rush through him.  
He swallowed again, fought down the anger that was gnawing at his intestines.  
He needed Thor to mount him, not to fight him. 

Well. There was more than one way to skin a cat. 

Loki blinked his eyes, slowly, opening them even wider than before. His voice dropped into a soft, pleading tone. “Thor, please.”

Thor swallowed again, dryly,. His Adam's apple was working in his throat. He had not yet moved, though there now was a faint hunger shining in his eyes. He cleared his throat, voice rougher than before.“I am sorry. I need to get back. But I am happy to join you in a few hours. Then I can...” He closed his mouth, eyes widening when his consort walked towards him with light, easy steps. 

Loki stopped just in front of the Odinson, leaning in until their lips were almost touching, voice a rough purr. “I won't keep you long, I promise.” He let his fingers run over Thor's dark shirt, dipping in where it opened to warm skin. His eyes flicked down, staring at Thor's crotch. “I need you, Thor. I need you to pleasure me, couple with me. Please.” Thor stiffened under his touch, pupils dilating. Loki's eyes followed his own fingers, watched as goosebumps raised where his fingers caressed it, pebbling the otherwise smooth skin. He drew lazy circles, relishing how power seemed to crackle between them, dipping his own chest and groin in heat. 

Thor's voice was little lower than before, and his deeper breaths belied his otherwise calm demeanor. “I can't...”

Loki twirled his fingers one last time, then he flicked his gaze up and slowly stepped back. “Of course. I understand. But as I am in need to be mounted, I would ask for you to send a blond, blue-eyed soldier to take care of my needs in your stead.” He laid his head to the side, eyes sparkling. “I am thinking maybe Sweyn. I would never know the difference.”

Thor's eyes blazed, and then all of the sudden he curled his hands around Loki's waist, pulling him flush against his body. His voice was almost a snarl. “No one else is going to have you but me.”

Loki smiled. His fingers were running down Thor's body until he reached between his legs, cupping his clothed cock with care. It was not yet hard, but Loki could feel him growing under his fingers. 

Thor's breath hitched. He blinked, and then he immediately released his hard grip from Loki's blue skin as if he had burnt himself. The Jötun leaned in, mouth next to the Odinson's ear. His breath washed against hot skin as he whispered. “No one but you, Thor.” He hesitated for a moment before whispering. “Please, fuck me.”

That's what did it. 

Thor groaned, and then he pulled Loki into a deep, possessive kiss. A calloused hand flew up, warm fingers brushing over the tepid skin of Loki's cheeks as he licked into his mouth, the other curling around his back, pulling him flush against his chest.  
Loki's eyes fluttered shut. He groaned softly.  
His skin was so sensitive, and the sensation of the touch traveled straight to his crotch, engulfing it in flames. His own hands curled around the soft material of the Thunderer's shirt, anchoring himself against the onslaught of unbridled passion. Thor was warm, and he smelled so very good, of ozone, rich earth, musk and spices. Loki's mouth watered and he relished in the harsh kiss, all tongue and teeth, licking in and out of the others mouth as their hands tugged at clothes. 

Thor mumbled “I can't stay long”, his inquisitive fingers trailing over blue skin, leaving paths of fire in their wake. Loki groaned his understanding, mouth spit-slick and slightly swollen. 

His hands fell down to the drawstring of Thor's pants, pulling at them frantically. He was panting. “Come on, mighty Thunderer. Fuck me. Now. You are on a tight schedule, after all.”

Thor let out a low laugh. Red spots were dancing on his cheeks, and after just one more moment of hesitation he grabbed Loki around his waist and lifted him, pulling him against his own body. Loki hissed, fingers digging into Thor's shoulders as he was carried towards his bed. He was breathing hard, his cock rubbing painfully where it was pressed against soft yet rough fabric, and his breath hitched when Thor stopped abruptly to lower him more or less carefully onto the mattress.  
Loki stared up at the Odinson towering above him. The fever had intensified, heat flickering through him, pooling between his legs where it throbbed in the rhythm of his heartbeat. There was a smile on Thor's lips, and then with a swift movement he peeled off his shirt, revealing his heavily muscled torso. 

Loki felt more slick seep from his cunt, gathering between his wet thighs. He stared at Thor for a moment, then let himself fall back back and lifted his hips, fumbling with the opening to his pants. He cursed as his sweaty fingers slipped on the knot, but finally it opened and he could push the thin material down towards his ankles where they fell to the floor. 

Thor's eyes were wide and liquid, staring at the blue cock bobbing free of its confines, pearling milky beads of pre-cum. Loki pushed himself back up, and he could feel his thighs rubbing against each other, slick with wetness and arousal. He grit his teeth, looking up at Thor who was still wearing his pants and boots. The Jötun frowned, leaning forward, fingers curling around the seam of Thor's clothing to tug at them. He snarled, panting. “Come on, Thor! Schedule, remember?”

Thor smiled at him. He pushed his pants down enough to free his cock, no more. Another wave of musk hit Loki's nostrils and he unconsciously licked his lips. He could not avert his eyes, staring at the red cock hanging heavy between the legs right in front of him. Loki reached out, wrapping blue fingers around the length, caressing it. Thor's breath hitched. Loki watched hungrily as the hot flesh thickened under his tepid fingers, running them up and down the shaft with slow, sensual movements.  
His mouth was watering.  
He fought the siren call of taking that beautiful, flushed cock into his mouth, to lave at it with his tongue. Then Thor groaned above him, his cock giving another twitch to rise further, and then Loki could not hold himself back. He leaned in, hungrily licking along the musky length, sucking at it until it fattened fully, until the first salty drops of pre-cum painted his mouth.

Thor buried his hands into raven-black hair. He threw his head back, groaning guttural. “Loki...”

Loki sucked and lapped, his own cock twitching against his stomach. He wanted this so badly, craved the salty taste of cum on his tongue, wanted to suck Thor until he was dry and then force him to rise again, taste the salt and the lightening in his mouth, again and again...

The hands in his hair tightened almost painfully, and he could hear Thor groaning above him. 

Loki blinked his eyes open. 

_Concentrate._

This was not where he wanted that cock, after all.  
He pulled away, looking up at Thor from under long lashes, hands still curled around his substantial length. His cunt was throbbing, aching, and he needed... needed...

“Fuck me, Thor. _Now_.” He knew he sounded rough, but this time he did not have to fake it. 

Thor growled. His hand came down on Loki's shoulders and then he pushed him back onto the soft covers, climbing onto the bed after him. His cock was jutting out from pants, spit-slick and shiny. 

They kissed again, wet lips sliding against each other, tongues entwining. Calloused hand roamed between Loki's legs, sliding over the slick that had gathered there. The Odinson's breath was coming in short pants. “So wet for me...”  
Loki hummed his approval, sure, if Thor thought this was about him, please, just...just....

“Thor. Fuck me. Now.”

His red eyes were burning as he hungrily watched Thor take himself in hand, guiding himself between his thighs. The view alone released another wash of slick, and his cock, curving to his stomach, twitched. 

And then the hot flesh glided over his wetness, velvety hardness rubbing between his legs, and the contact alone made Loki throw his head back. The silk underneath him ripped with the force of his horns digging into it, and Loki mewled loudly as Thor sunk into his burning cunt without another moment of hesitation. 

Thor groaned at the sensation. The penetration was slick and almost friction-less, yet his consort's unusually warm passage squeezed him tightly, swollen with blood and arousal. Loki arched up against him, curling his legs around his waist to pull him deeper into his body. Thor watched with hunger as his consort screwed his eyes shut, mouth ripped open in a silent scream when he finally settled all the way inside of him. He pressed hard kisses against tepid, sweat-slick skin, and then Loki clawed at his back, hissing at him to “Move, damn you!” Thor rolled his hips, moaning when Loki lifted his ass to meet him, fervent urgency in his movements. He pulled out partway and thrust back in, and then Loki ripped his eyes wide open and gasped, his nails scratching painfully over his back.  
The Frost Giant started to shiver, mewling loudly, his thighs tightening around Thor's waist.

And then Loki came. 

He threw his head back, keening sound stuck in his throat as his untouched cock spurted long, pearly threads of cum onto his stomach. Thor froze, captured in awe as his consorts cunt contracted around him, Loki shivering and twisting underneath him, horns ripping further into precious silk. 

The orgasm was intense but quick, and in less than a minute Loki slumped back into the bed shiny with sweat, breathing audibly. Thor stared at him for a moment, then pressed another kiss against his neck. He realized with a pang of regret that he was nowhere near close to coming. He hesitated, relishing the tight warmth around his cock, his consort so very giving and pliable underneath him. He sighed, then carefully pulled back out. 

Loki's eyes opened with a start, and he clasped his ankles behind Thor's back, keeping him from pulling away. “Don't... just give me a minute.”

“You came already!” Thor pressed another kiss onto Loki's warm forehead, smiling at the exasperated huff he received as an answer. 

“Your brilliance is, as always, astounding.” Loki shifted every so slightly, breath hitching when the hard cock shifted inside of him. He let out something dangerously close to a purr. “I'm in heat. Just one moment. I need one more. Please.”

Thor contemplated this before he settled back down on his forearms, caging Loki's body with his own. His cock slid deeper into the warm cunt, his crotch slotting itself perfectly between blue legs. The Frost Giant shuddered at the feeling, groaning again at the sensation that washed through his satisfied body. For a long moment they lay without moving, Thor nuzzling along Loki's side of his face, kissing and nipping. The Frost Giant tasted of salt and arousal, of snow and tart, sweet berries. Loki's breath eased more and more, and their chests moved against each other, with slow, even breaths. Thor shifted slightly, Loki's eyes flew open at the motion, slightly glazed. His fingers tightened on Thor's back, and then he started to squirm, making small, needy sounds at the hard length inside of him. His voice was a mere whisper. “Ok. You can move.”

Thor kept his nose pressed against where the blue neck meet the chin, feeling the strong, fast heartbeat under his lips as he slowly rolled his hips, grinding himself as deep as he could into the slick, warm cunt.  
Loki reacted beautifully.  
He shifted and gasped, hips moving once more, rising to meet him, his fingers clawing into his neck and back as if he had to hold on to his dear life. The sounds he made were delectable, small “Ah...ah... ah... “ that Thor was sure he would hate if he knew he made them. He held him tighter as he thrust harder, caging his consort under his muscular body, pressing as much of his naked skin against the other as he could. He relished how wet Loki was, how the sweat made him slide over the flesh easily, almost without friction.  
His movements were almost lazy, pulling out all the way before pushing back into his consorts body, his ass flexing every time he pressed himself deep. Loki moved in perfect harmony to his thrusts, raising his hips again and again, spreading his legs wide and pushing back so he could take all that Thor had to give him. Thor grabbed his legs under his knees and opened him up wider, and the new angle made Loki whimper, grinding back against him. He opened his eyes, sweat pearling from his forehead, and he narrowed them at Thor, blazing with fever.  
“Harder!” He hissed, and Thor complied, he fucked back in, watching as his consort took everything he was able to give and begging for more. 

The second orgasm overtook Loki only a few minutes later. 

His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he tensed as Thor pinned him down into the mattress, fucking harder and harder, blue cock emptying itself in hard spurts between their bodies. Loki shivered and gasped through it, his hips jerking in Thor's tight grip, his cunt sucking the Thunderer's cock deeper in small, rhythmic movements.  
The orgasm was much more intense, and Thor raised himself to watch Loki squirm underneath him, toes curling, thighs shivering as he gasped and mewled. 

It took Loki a long while to calm, eyes closed as his breaths deepened. He did not stop Thor this time when he slowly withdrew, simply blinked sleepily when a kiss was pressed against his tepid skin. “Don't leave...” Loki's voice was a low murmur.

He was a sight to behold, debauched and sweaty, spread out on the ripped covers. 

“I will be back as soon as I can.” Thor felt a twitch of regret at the words, looking down at his cock that was still hard and now almost aching.  
But he had to get back, had to speak to the delegation of Dark Elves that had come a long way to discuss a peace treaty. Having another look at his consort, he realized he would probably have to send them home by the end of the day, claiming an urgent family matter. 

He grimaced, pushed his hand through his tangled hair. 

Thor turned with a sigh, picking up his shirt and then he made his way to the bathing chambers. He stared down at his hard length with regret before he scooped up some ice-cold water from Loki's pool, wilting his arousal as he cursed under his breath. Sometimes the ability of having stamina and being able to hold off from an orgasm for a long while was not necessarily a good thing. 

But the cold water helped. 

Thor quickly got dressed, checked in the mirror that he was presentable. Before he left he walked back to the bed, fingers carding over Loki's sweaty forehead where he tenderly brushed away some strands of hair that were clinging to blue skin.

Loki had curled into himself, blinked up at him. His cheeks were purple and his skin was much warmer than usual, the heat glazing his eyes with fever. Thor kissed the hand that came up to reach for him again, then stepped back.  
Loki's eyes narrowed, then he sighed. “Don't make me wait too long.” He shifted, and Thor watched mesmerized as cum trickled from his stomach along his waist and down the sides, soaking the silk beneath him. 

He smiled. “I won't.”

And with that promise he left.

x

The next few hours turned out to be some of the longest of Loki's life. 

x


	30. Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys.   
> As much as I really was not happy with the last chapter I am in love with this one. Like, seriously. It was really intense writing it, and I hope you guys can feel what I was trying to portrait. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Porn and Angst. I know, weird combo, but there it is. Somehow that damn Angst writes itself, I swear to God. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love and I want to thank everyone that takes the time to leave them!  
> According to my calculations, this fic will clock in at about 40-50 chapters, with my personal favorite chapter coming to you in about 2-3 weeks. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

After Thor had left him, Loki had a quick wash and then called the maid to take care of the ruined bed sheets, instructing her to bring thick cotton as replacement. 

Silk did not react well to sweat.   
And neither did it to his horns when he had heated sex, apparently. 

Fair enough. 

x

To kill time, Loki ate

And then he waited.

x

Time stood still.

x

 

Loki tried sleeping, but his heart was thundering in his chest, and laying still only drew his attention to the intensive throbbing between his legs. He tossed and turned in the sheets until he could take it no more and got up. 

He grabbed a random book, sat by the open window and tried to concentrate on the story. It took him several minutes to notice that he just sat staring, rereading the same paragraph over and over again, rocking slowly, back and forth, back and forth, rubbing his cunt against the soft material of his pants.

Loki stopped himself the moment he realized what he was doing.  
He huffed, pinched his nose. 

The he stood with a sigh, wandering his rooms, hoping that the breeze of his movement would cool him down. 

It did not. 

Instead, whichever way he moved, he could feel the swollen petals of his cunt rub against each other, his hard cock bending towards his belly, slapping against it whenever he shifted. 

His skin was burning like fire. 

Loki went back to his bathing chambers and lowered himself into the cool waters of the pool.   
He was aroused to a point that he ached, and soon he gave in to the urgent need of his body and took himself in hand. He arched into his own touch, the heat that flickered over his skin liquefying and gathering between his legs, connecting his cock and his cunt, burning him, making him want, need....

He fought himself out of the water and used a towel to catch his seed, gasping at the sensation of his whole body, mind and soul arching into the orgasm. 

And yet he was not sated. 

No. 

He felt even emptier than before.  
He craved, no _needed_ to be bred. 

Loki snarled, pushed his wet hair behind his ears. 

He already hated being in heat with a vengeance. 

And Thor made him _wait!_

Loki growled, burying three fingers inside himself, his other hand rubbing his cock with even strokes, again and again. At one point he caught himself staring at the row of soap bottles lined beside the bath, fantasizing about sinking down on one of them, fucking himself on the cool glass...

Loki shook his head, cursing.  
Once the damned Odinson was back, he would first fuck him. 

Then he would murder him.

Slowly. 

 

x

 

A couple of hours later, when Loki could pick up heavy booted steps in the hallway and heard the hard knock, he was still sitting in the pool, hands clenched by his side.

For quite a while now, he had been trying not to go mad. 

Over the last few hours his skin had gotten even hotter, and sometimes he wondered if he was actually caught in Hel, burning, if his blood was already boiling in his veins or if it just felt like it. He was pretty sure that he was going to die before Thor came back and took care of him. 

Once or twice he forgot where he was, thinking himself back in Jötunheimr, walking through ice and snow, calling for his mate until he snapped out of it in some corner of his room. 

He shivered and dove back into the cold water, masturbating frenetically to take the edge off, to the ease the mounting pain that was holding him in its clutches, ripping him apart from the inside out. 

Going out to fuck the guard seemed like a viable option at this point. 

His heartbeat was thundering in his ears, and he blinked when he heard a door open and close, wondering if he was imagining the sound. He moved sluggishly, his first instinct to get out of the bath and look if it was his mate, to sink to his knees and present, begging him to fuck him, mount him, _breed_ him, please, please, please... 

He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching his the soft skin of his thighs between his fingers hard enough to bruise. 

_You are not an animal._   
_You are in control._

Loki kept repeating these words in his head, over and over, fighting through the fuzzy whiteness that curled around his thoughts. When he felt he had the sliver of a chance to restrain himself he dipped his head under the water, holding his breath, slowly counting to three. 

Then he emerged again and turned to climb out of the bath. 

His eyes flicked up, right at Thor who was standing in the doorway to his bathing chambers.   
The Odinson's face was soft, his smile gentle. “There you are. Here I thought you had gone to look for that stable boy after all.”

Loki's whole body went up in flames. He froze on the steps, his cunt contracting with a hot stab of lust in his belly. His mind started to faze out, screaming at him to please his mate, to bend over, to present, beg him to fuck him, beg him NOW, crawl, beg, now, now, now, mate, mate, MATE....

Loki swallowed hard as sweat pearled from his forehead, suppressing the moan that threatened to escape him. His fingers dug back into his thighs with a vengeance, the pain keeping him from sliding into insanity, from fully loosing who he was. 

He straightened his shoulders and fully emerged, standing tall. Water was sliding down his skin, dripping from him in into small puddles around his feet. He suppressed the shivers running over his body, his weak legs that wanted him to sink to his knees. 

“You made me wait.” His voice was rough, as if he had screamed for hours. 

Maybe he had. 

Thor's face softened, and he studied his consort for a long moment. Something like guilt clouded his features, and he stepped a little closer, raising his hands in a soothing gesture. “My apologies, Loki. The ambassador needed more time than I thought. But I am here now.”

Loki backed off when the Odinson was within reach, fisting his hands at his sides as he struggled for control. His legs wanted to buckle and force him down, onto the floor, and he was NOT going to kneel, not going to beg, he was not... _that._

Not in all the realms. 

Loki's voice was no less than a snarl, the only thing he could get out apart from begging and whining. “You are late. I am in heat and in pain, and I needed you. And you, you made me wait!” 

Gods, he hated how weak he sounded. How weak and needy.   
But Loki was angry. He felt _betrayed_.  
He was hot and ached with emptiness, and his mind clouded over, again and again. He needed to speak his thoughts, now, before they were gone. 

And he could already feel them slipping away. 

Thor's brows furrowed. His eyes shifted to the sides, and he actually looked apologetic. “I am sorry.” He smiled lightly, but stayed out of reach, allowing Loki the space he needed. “I am here now, Loki. You may do with me as you wish.”

Loki could feel sweat pearling on his forehead, in the nape of his neck, rolling down his body. He took a deep breath. His fingers were shaking. “You are not going to leave me again before this heat is over.” His heart was hammering in his chest, and the red-hot urgency that the heat brought along cocooned his thoughts, making him dizzy.

Thor nodded, a small smile slipping over his lips. It was gone as quick as it came. “Yes, my Lord. You will have use of me as long as you need me.”

Loki hissed, red eyes shiny with fever, burning into blue ones. “I mean it. This could take days. I am not going to wait again. You can't leave me! Not again!” Panicked tears stung in his eyes, and Loki snapped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth before saying more. 

He was not going to beg. 

Thor stepped a little bit closer. He was staring at his consort, wet from the bath and glorious in his nakedness. His voice low and soothing. “I won't leave you. I am here, Loki.” With a slow motion he opened the clasps that held his his cape, letting the thick, dark material drop on the floor behind him. Loki's nostrils flared as musk rose from the confines of his shirt, curling and teasing, enhancing the pounding deep in his cunt. His cock twitched against his stomach, a pearl of pre-cum sliding from the tip. 

Loki took a shuddering breath. He stared hungrily as Thor continued to undress in slow, patient motions. The Thunderer pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his heavily muscled torso, glowing golden in the light of the setting suns. He must have moaned under his breath, because Thor stopped undressing, eyeing him cautiously. He was watching Loki from under his blond lashes as if he was a wild animal that would bolt if he moved too fast.”Loki, are you all right?”

Loki swallowed dryly, unclenching his fingers. His legs were shivering with the strain of keeping himself upright. “I'm... just hurry up... and lay down... need you...” He struggled through the haze of his thoughts that made less and less sense, distracted by the naked flesh of what his subconscious insisted to be his mate. 

His mate.

He was finally here.

To breed him. 

Loki made another broken sound and squeezed his eyes shut. 

Thor nodded and then quickly unlaced his pants. Another wave of musk washed over the Frost Giant, entangling his brain even deeper in a web of lust that he could not escape. He started to pant as the Odinson pushed the dark leather down to the floor and stepped out of it, throwing the garment into a corner. Thor's cock was dangling thick and red between his legs, and his mind zoned in on it, knowing that it would relief him of his pain, that it would plant his seed deep inside of him, fill him up again and again until he was with child, until he was fully and truly bonded. 

Thor straightened, and then slowly, carefully took a step towards his consort. Loki could feel the heat wavering off the Odinson's body matching his own, and he clawed at his own skin, closed his eyes.  
He was confused. He knew that he did not want to beg, but he had forgotten why, and Thor was so close and why did he not mount him and make everything better? Why was his mate here and he still felt so very empty?

Loki opened his eyes again, staring into the blue ones of the Odinson. They were aflame with admiration as his gaze swept over his naked consort standing in front of him. “By the Norns. You are so very beautiful, Loki.” He whispered. 

Thor's hand came up to cup his chin.

Loki let out a shuddering breath, a fresh stream of moisture sliding from between his legs at the sensation of the touch and the pleasure of the compliment.

He mewled softly when the calloused hand stroked over his hypersensitive skin, and then Thor leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Loki's warm lips. Loki was engulfed with fire, and he gasped, opening his mouth to allow Thor's tongue to enter him, mapping out the inside of his mouth, roaming and sucking. He lost himself in the sensation of wetness and hunger, the hard rasp of the bearded stubble flooding him with pain that washed over in ecstasy. He involuntarily started rubbing his body against the Thunderer's massive bulk, and when his eyes flicked up he could see lust shining in Thor's blue ones, matching his own.

“So beautiful” Thor repeated soflty. 

Loki murmured illegible things into his mouth, clawing at Thor's body, pressing himself as close as he could. Every inch of skin that was touched, every raised branding that Thor rubbed against flickered with energy, channeling into his womb, setting it ablaze. 

Loki closed his eyes and groaned as Thor's fingers stroked along his back, painting his skin with fire and ice, and he gasped. He twitched, spilling his seed from his mate's touch alone, the touch he had craved, _needed_ for so long. 

Thor stared at him in wonder as Loki shivered through his orgasm, his cock dribbling only a couple of drops of pearly cum after having milked himself almost dry in the course of the day. Yet the Odinson did not stop stroking the soft blue skin under his fingertips, murmuring words of endearment against raven-black hair. 

Thick fingers slid past the flagging cock between blue thighs, and Loki's knees buckled when they touched him _there_ , in that place where all of his aches and emptiness were concentrated, making it burn so hard it hurt. He keened, and then his cunt contracted when Thor's fingers slid over the thickened petals, spreading them, stroking them. “By the Norns, you are dripping.” Thor sounded reverend as he pressed another kiss against his forehead. 

Loki moaned. 

Stars were twirling in front of his eyes, and he clawed against Thor's shoulders to hold himself upright. His whole being, his mind and soul had settled between his legs, and all he could smell was musk and need and want and sex, and he needed to be breed, needed to be claimed and fucked and he needed it NOW...

He blinked once, twice, shivering with suppressed hunger. His mate was staring at him, still not moving, and he fought through the thick clouds wrapping his thoughts into a haze. His mouth was dry, it was hard to speak. “Please...” He swallowed, reminded himself what he had meant to say. “Lay down.” His tongue seemed too big for his mouth, and he was pretty sure that he was slurring.

Thor nodded, pressing himself closer, and then he went down to his knees, pulling Loki down with him, careful to make sure they did not slip and fall onto the wet floor. When Loki was kneeling Thor slowly laid back onto the cape spread out underneath him, Loki like a heavy weight against his chest.

Thor continued to stroke soothingly over his skin when his back settled on the grounds, and Loki shivered with ache, his emptiness swallowing him whole, turning everything into a dull level of torment. 

He pushed himself up, kneeling next to the Odinson's body, staring down at him.  
Thor's body was spread out beneath him, a landscape of rolling muscles, dips and crevices. His blond hair fanned out against the darkened cape, and his cock, almost fully hard now, laying over his hip above the nest of blond curls beneath it. 

Loki swallowed dryly, and then reached out for Thor's cock, sliding his fingers over the velvety length, watching with narrowed eyes as it twitched in his touch. Thor curled up to meet him, pressing soft kisses along his face before pulling the slight Frost Giant into another deep, demanding kiss. Loki felt his whole world contract around him, focusing onto the heat of Thor's mouth, the hardness of the body beneath him, and his mind screamed at him, over and over, to take and to breed and to mate...

He broke the kiss and straddled Thor, knees on both sides of his hips and lifted his hips to position himself, guiding the almost fully hard erection between his thighs. He slid it over his cunt, wetting it with his own slick, moaning at the contact that made him shiver. 

Without a second thought he sunk down onto Thor's hard length, sliding down easily as it spread his inner folds, thickly swollen with need. Loki fingers clenched on the hairless chest beneath him, starting to pant. The cock pressed into him like a fresh brand, hot and searing his insides. Loki threw his head back as he sat down on the nest of wiry curls, ripped his eyes open as his womb exploded in a cacophony of sensations, blanking all his thoughts into white oblivion. 

This. 

This was all he had ever needed. 

Loki keened, shuddered. 

He looked down, where his blue fingers were a stark contrast against the golden-tanned skin of his mate's chest, and then he ground down to spear himself even further, his toes curling into the heavy cape beneath him. Thor groaned, placing his hands onto Loki's hips, and Loki shuddered when the touch ran like lightening over his skin, flicking and jumping, leaving him hard and breathless in its wake. 

Loki lifted his hips, the thick cock wet with his own juices sliding out of him. And then he pressed down again, gasping as the fat head dragged along his oversensitive walls, clinging to the invasion so tightly, sucking it deeper.

He let out a whining sound that could not be his, foreign and strange.

“So beautiful...” He could hear Thor's murmured words through the thundering of his heart, and he rose and fell, again, and again, over and over, working himself into an easy rhythm.

It felt so right. 

His cunt that had ached was finally sated, finally filled, and that alone was bliss that made his whole body shudder with deep-rooted gratification. Loki bent down as his fingers curled into the smooth chest, and Thor's fingers tightened around his hips in response, helping him rise and fall, rise and fall, again and again. Thor lifted his hips to meet him, and Loki keened as his throbbing cunt was filled, a hot, sweet spot inside of him sparking fireworks, sending bolts of heat into his hands and feet.   
And then Loki came again, this time from deep within, like a rolling wave thundering over him, forcing him to hold in his ministrations and shiver through it as his passage tightened around Thor's hard length, swelling even tighter. 

Loki gasped and fell forward, curling onto Thor's chest, panting as he twitched and shivered. Thor's hands stroked over his back and then cupped his chin once more, guiding him into another deep kiss. 

Now Loki was connected with his mate as much as he ever could be, filled deep with his hard flesh, pressing his stomach and chest against him, his legs curled against his sides. Their fingers were entwined as their tongues slid against each other, drawing pictures of lust that would never be seen.

His mate. 

His. 

“Loki, Loki, Loki...” Thor was chanting, his eyes closed, and Loki started rolling his hips again, sliding back and forth on the wiry curls, relishing how that feeling added to all the others. He twirled his hips, and then Thor lifted himself up on his forearms, saying something to him, something that was lost in the euphoria of finally being so full and feeling so very right, so _good._  
Thor pulled him back down against himself and then he shifted them to the side, Loki mewling in confusion, and then he was on his back, rough wool pressing against him.   
And then Thor sunk into him and started to to fuck him, and Loki drowned under a surge of sensations that combined everything he ever wanted.

x

Loki was lost.

x

His brain stopped working. 

He was nothing. He was everything. 

All Loki needed, craved, lived for was to be touched by his mate, filled by his mate, bred by his mate. 

There was nothing else. 

x

At one point he realized that, somehow, Thor had moved them to his bed. 

It was much softer than the hard floor of the bathing chambers. 

x

His mate took him. 

Pleasured him. 

Spilled in him. 

Again and again. 

It was bliss.

x

Once or twice, when his mate was done rutting into him, had spilled and softened he stood up to leave. When that happened Loki keened in fright of being abandoned, of being forsaken. He whined, a high, sad sound, afraid that some other Alpha might come and snatch him away, use him, would place his child inside of him, but he did not want anyone else, he wanted his mate and why did he leave him, where was he, why, where, where, where...?

Thor always came back, sometimes with water he made him drink, sometimes with food that he did not like, too warm and too cooked, but his mate crooned at him and he ate it just to please him. 

Loki craved to touch and be touched, even when he drifted into sleep for short periods of time. He would spread himself over the pink, muscled frame, curling into him, allowing as much of their skin to touch as possible. 

It made him feel safe. 

It made everything right. 

x

His mate took him. 

Again and again.

And Loki was satisfied.

x

It was the morning of the forth day.

Loki's fever had eased somewhat over the night, giving him more and longer moments of lucidity than he had the days before. He woke to Thor shifting, carefully peeling himself out of the tumble that was Loki's limbs. He drifted out of sleep and turned, eyes blinking open as he clutched at Thor's shoulders. He was hoarse, mumbling. “Don't leave. You are not done.”

Thor smiled softly, pressing a kiss onto Loki's forehead. He murmured. “You are insatiable.”

Loki growled, voice raspy. “I am in heat, you damned idiot.”

Thor laughed quietly. “You are also starting to make sense again. Don't worry, I am just getting some water. You know, my needy consort hasn't allowed me to leave the bed for days.” He leaned in over Loki's back, pressing kisses into the luke-warm skin. The Frost Giant was cooling down already, not burning up anymore. Pink fingers trailed down between blue legs, stroking over the wet cunt with inquisition. 

Loki moaned, shifted into the touch.  
Thor rubbed his fingers up and down over the soft, wet flesh, relishing the arch in the Jötuns back. It was such a lovely sight.   
He pressed another kiss and rose to get up. 

Loki groaned, pressing his head into his pillow. His back arched wantonly, pushing his ass into the air. He had spread his legs, the lovely petals of his cunt thick and swollen, moisture glistening on the purple skin.   
Loki was gasping. “Don't you dare...leave....I swear...by the Norns...”

Thor smiled. He was still a little tired, but the view of his consort, so beautiful and debauched and _needy_... it was a sight to behold. “Hush, I am just going to get you some water and some breakfast, and then I am going to see to you.”

Loki was mumbling obscenities into his pillow, slowly writhing on the bed. “Fucking hurry UP!”

Thor smirked, turned to walk away. Finally Loki was resurfacing from wherever the heat had taken him, and he was glad for it. As much as he liked his consort to be in thar state, he had missed that sharp tongue. 

“Yes, my liege.” He chuckled.

He went to get the breakfast the maid had left in front of the door. 

x

The next two coupling sessions were slower, less frenzied, and while Loki still was driven to be filled, he was aware enough to growl when annoyed, and he complied when Thor coaxed him into the bathing chambers to cleanse himself. 

Loki's mind was lazily allowing him resurface, still pulling him back down enough to feel like a he was aflame every time he was touched, to moan whenever Thor sunk into him, to arch into his touch, to spill again and again, until he was empty and sated. 

He fell asleep with Thor still rutting into him. 

x

Loki woke late that same evening. 

He was laying on his bed, sheets tangled underneath him, clammy to the touch. 

Loki shifted, rubbing his face as he slowly woke.   
He yawned, pushing himself upright. 

He was alone. 

Loki blinked, stared out the window where the last sun was just about to set, four moons already high in the sky. It was well past dinner time. He rose slowly, grimacing as viscous wetness sluiced from between his legs, running in thick ribbons down his thighs, soaking the cotton sheets. 

Ah yes. 

He had been bred. 

He pulled a face of disgust and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the trickle to slow.   
Then it dawned on him.

He had been _bred._

His thoughts, while still a little hazy, were his own once more. He raised a hand and pressed it against his forehead to check his temperature. 

It was cool . 

Slowly he lowered it back onto his lap. 

Loki swallowed, staring out into the galaxy. 

The heat was over. 

His hand slid onto his taunt, flat stomach, pressing against it.   
A sour taste washed through his mouth, and then his eyes stung, flooding with tears. 

By the Norns. 

He was pregnant.


	31. Unsure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! As usual, what should have been a single chapter turned into two.  
> Not betad because life happened, but I hope you forgive me. 
> 
> Thank all of you for your continuous support in form of comments and kudos, they keep me going!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> x

When Loki woke he was alone.

He blinked, yawned deeply. 

His whole body felt sleep-heavy yet well rested, and his skin was cool to the touch, which was a relief. For the first time in days his thoughts were clear, not embedded in a thick fog the heat had forced upon him. 

Loki stretched himself long like a cat. He winced when he shifted.  
A deep ache spread through his lower part of the body, radiating from his cunt, deep into his womb. 

He felt like...  
Well. 

Like he had been fucked for days.

Ow.

Loki stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Memories of the previous night washed over him, how he had sat and panicked, fear and anger clawing in his stomach, how totally and utterly lost he had felt. 

He searched for the same emotions now. 

But this early morning, the second sun hardly over the horizon, there was little left of the unease. Yes, worry did twinge in his chest, but it seemed that his own biology was counteracting the horror with feelings of calmness and satisfaction, with the knowledge that everything was going to be all right. 

Loki blinked, his hand gliding over his flat stomach, caressing it.  
With a very high possibility Thor had planted a seed inside of him. If that was the case he would carry it in his womb for years, give birth to a bastard he never wanted and bind himself even closer to his captor. 

And by the Norns, that idea scared him. 

But right now, the thought of a babe in his arms was also somewhat pleasing. 

Loki huffed, rubbing a cool hand over his face. 

His body was a traitor.  
Pumping out hormones to soothe him, to make him accept his fate instead of enduring misery and unhappiness at the prospect and in turn potentially endangering his own life and that of the child.  
Clever, really.  
It did however also turn him into the willing broodmare that Thor wanted him to be.  
For a moment Loki wondered if that was why so few Jötun Ergi's killed themselves when they were pregnant. Hormones. Simple as that.

Loki tried to be angry at the prospect, tried to hate what the future had in store for him. 

But right now he simply couldn't. Which would have been annoying if there hadn't been another thought in the forefront of his mind.

Thor had made a promise to him. 

When he had given him the choice between life and death in what felt like a life-time ago, Thor has said tthat when Loki had this first child he was allowed to go home.  
To see Jötunheimr once more.  
And, when the time had come, rule in the stead of the babe, until it came of age. 

A small smile slipped over Loki's features. 

Yes,the idea of carrying Thor's spawn was daunting. For others to stare at him, the proof of what had been done to him extending his stomach, his shame visible for everyone to see.  
But now he also had hope.  
He would be more than a locked-up plaything that was waiting for its master, day in and day out, to be called for, hoping that someday his life would change.

For now right now his life had turned into something different. 

This child – Loki's fingers curled over his taut flesh – if there was a child - it brought hope. 

Hope for change.  
Hope for power.  
Maybe even hope for freedom. 

Everything was possible. 

Loki pondered on the thought for another long moment, when his grumbling stomach called him back to the present. Ah yes. He was thirsty and hungry, and when he shifted he realized he was slick between his thighs, which was disgusting, if nothing else. 

Loki sighed deeply and rolled onto his side. The cotton sheets beneath him were a sticky mess, soiled with sweat and cum that had dried in small patches all around him. He pushed himself into a sitting position, seed washing out of him, gathering between his legs. Loki grimaced in distaste. A quick look down his body showed him that while the bed was deeply sullied, he himself was rather clean, as if he had been wiped down with a wet cloth while he had been asleep. 

Well. That was sweet. 

Still, he needed to wash.

Loki peeled himself off the ruined sheets with a wet sound, shivering in disgust at the dampness that had spread over his back.

He drank a couple of mugs of water, then climbed into the pool to wash thoroughly, again and again, until his skin felt thin and he was rubbed almost raw. His temperature, as far as he could tell, was back to normal. And he was not driven by the need to rut against any available surface in sight, so that was an improvement if there ever was one. 

Loki brushed his hair and then went through his wardrobe, selecting a thin pair of pants that he carefully pulled on, hissing when his sore cunt got in contact with the material.  
He might have to ask the healer for some soothing cream.

Then again, maybe not. 

Loki stomach was growling loudly and he just contemplated what he wanted for breakfast when the door leading to Thor's chamber opened and the Odinson walked in. 

Loki froze. It took him several heartbeats to realize that he had been hunching and he straightened himself, standing tall. His body, traitor that it was, was reacting to the Thunderer's presence with a surge of warmth flooding his stomach, ease and calm spreading through him. 

Everything was going to be fine.  
His mate was here. 

Loki jerked at the thoughts, pushing them away with deliberation. The hormones may help him accept this pregnancy to birth this bastard of a child, but they were not going to make him give in to Thor to accept him as his lover.

Not in all the realms.  
Not as long as he still had something to say about it. 

Thor had stopped in his tracks when he saw Loki standing by his bed, a large smile spreading his features. “You are awake.”

Loki huffed, rolled his eyes. “Your attention to detail is, as always, astonishing.”

Thor grinned in return, eyes sparkling. He walked towards Loki and stopped in front of him, eyes running over his body. “How are you feeling?”

Loki kept his face a blank mask, though he could not suppress the spark of mischief in his eyes. “Sore.”

Thor let out a surprised laugh.  
He raised his hand to cup Loki's chin, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Yeah. I'd imagine. You had me worried there for a while. It was hard to keep up with you.”

Loki crossed his arms in front of his chest, neither pulling away from the touch nor leaning into it. “I am sure it was a horrible hardship for you to take care of my needs.”

Thor smiled softly, his fingers still pressed against blue skin. “I would not say that.” He hummed, thoughtfully. “You are cool again. Is the heat over?”

Loki's eyes were burning. “It is.” He paused for a moment before he continued coolly. “That means that you can stop touching me now.”

Thor's smile melted and he blinked, and then quickly withdrew his hand. “Oh. Ok then.”

Loki kept his features even. “Thank you.”

Thor's eyes shot around the room, as if he had to check that no one had seen their little exchange. He coughed. “So...uhm... are you hungry?”

Loki nodded, pushing some wet strands behind his ear. “I'm starving.”

It took less than fifteen minutes for the maid to bring a large breakfast, spreading out a variety of different dishes on the table in front of the sofa. Loki took a bowl of wintergrain-porridge, his stomach rumbling loudly as he started eating. He was aware of Thor kept glancing at him while he picked up a thick piece of bread and drove his knife into a slab of cold meat.  
Loki decided to ignore him. He spooned the thick gruel, groaning at the satisfying sweetness of it. 

They were silent for a couple of minutes as they ate, the only sounds in the room Thor ripping at the bread with his teeth and the metal spoon clinking against the ceramic bowl when Loki lowered it, again and again.

Finally Thor set down his plate, wiping a couple of crumbs from his beard. He cleared his throat. “So...Loki... ?”

Loki said nothing, concentrating on his bowl. He almost enjoyed seeing Thor writhe on his chair, searching for words. 

Thor continued. “Now that the heat is over... does that mean... are you...?”

Loki sighed. “Am I what?”

Thor took a deep breath. “Are you pregnant?”

Loki did not raise his eyes, slurping at another spoonful of cold porridge. “I think so.”

Thor grinned impossibly wide, staring right at him across the table. “You do? That's wonderful!” 

Loki shrugged his shoulders. “Don't get too excited. I said I think so. I did not say I was sure.”

Thor leaned back, frowning slightly. “What do you mean, you are not sure?”

Loki sighed, staring at the spoon in his hand. “I just don't know. Jötun Ergi physiology was not a topic that had been extensively researched or that anyone could have taught me about when I was a child.” For a moment sadness that he had never met his dam, who might have been able to explain it to him, overtook him, and he fought it down. Hormones. What a waste of time. “But, according to at least some of the books in your library, and there are precious few as it is, a Jötun's heat lasts until the egg is fertilized. Which would mean that I am pregnant.”

Thor was watching him intently, cheeks flushed. “Those are wonderful news, Loki. I am so glad.”

Loki hummed, shifted. His answer was dry. “I am sure you are.”

Thor swallowed, lowered his knife. His smile faded, his features creasing with thought. “Aren't you? I mean... I know that the timing might be a little bit... unfortunate, but aren't you happy?”

Loki stared down at his food.  
He wanted to say no.  
That he was not happy.  
Rub the Odinson's face into his misery.  
It would be easy enough.  
But right now, at this very moment, the thought of being pregnant was not a bad one. 

Loki sighed, rubbed his face again. He took an apple from one of the plates, looked at it thoughtfully. “I am elated. It means I get to go home, after all.”

That shut the Odinson up, cheeks blanching. 

And that was at least something. 

 

x

 

Thor went back to his daily routine of running a kingdom, after having neglected his duties for the last couple of days.

He was so happy he felt as if his heart was going to burst from his chest. 

Loki was pregnant!  
He would be the mother of his child!

Of course as of now nothing was set in stone, but Thor had spoken to the healers this morning and had been ensured that they would be able to confirm or deny his hopes of a pregnancy in about two months time. 

A child. Thor could not wipe the grin off his face.

This. This was everything he had ever hoped for. 

It would encourage Loki to soften, to understand why Thor had done what he had to do. And it would help them grow together, to become a family, the family he had always wanted to have with Loki. 

Yes.

Things were finally going to be all right. 

 

x

 

After the heat Loki slipped back into his old life. 

Though not all things were the way they used to be.

Somehow Loki felt different. 

His skin was thin, much more sensitive, just like the days that had led up to his heat, and it reacted to touch much faster than he could remembered ever having done before. He was hungry, randomly asking for different types of foods during the day, outside of meal times. 

Above all he was restless. 

Loki went back to his tutor and set up three lessons a week with her. He was looking forward to the meetings, half days in which they covered different subjects, from mathematics to poetry to magic.  
In the rest of his free time he roamed the gardens or wandered through the royal libraries, picking up piles of books each time, focusing on Jötun history and physiology. Not that there was much information to be had.  
But the little there was, he read. 

Once a week Loki rode to the ice houses, getting back to work on growing different plants and grains that only grew in thick ice. 

x

His evenings still belonged to the Odinson.  
Nothing had changed in that regard. 

Thor had dinner about four times a week with his men in the common rooms, but he always came to visit after, either to talk or play a round of Mār, sitting until well past midnight at his consort's side. 

And yet, though he often overstayed his welcome, he did not touch Loki. 

A couple of times he approached him, running his thick fingers through black hair or offering a soft kiss, but he was always pushed away. In turn Thor's eyes would cloud over but he would retreat without a word, staying at a respectful distance. And while a faint hunger shone in his eyes, he did not act on it without invitation.

Loki wished he could be glad for it. 

For, while he enjoyed having the freedom to deny the Odinson, his body craved touch. He wanted to he caressed and held, his head whispering softly to him how good it would feel to allow his mate to hold him, how nice it would be to sink into his strong arms and be sheltered and protected. 

But he would not give in to the siren call. 

The Odinson was still his captor. Still his rapist. No matter what his hormones screamed at him.  
He was not going to forget it.  
And neither was Thor.  
So he pushed the Odinson away, again and again, keeping him at a distance. And Thor, though he did look hurt and confused, allowed him the space he needed. 

And, night after night Loki's body burned for touch, shivering to be soothed, to be caressed and calmed. So when he was truly alone and the lights were turned off, and he was illuminated only by the soft glow of the stars, he took himself in hand, spilled into his own needy fingers, sobbing at how lonely he felt. 

But he was not going to give in. 

Not ever. 

 

x

 

Roughly six weeks after Loki had come out of his heat, Thor had sent Eir into his chambers, and Loki was asked to hold still while she placed her hands upon his belly, running her weak seiðr through his body. She worked in silence, concentrated, pushing into different areas of his flesh, and by the time she was done she had confirmed that life was growing within Loki's womb. She smiled and congratulated him, told him that it was going to be a boy, and had left him with the instruction to eat well and rest as much as his body needed to. 

Loki felt numb as he watched her go.  
He sat down by the window, staring into space in silence, his hands resting on his still taut stomach. 

Thoughts raced through his head, denial followed by optimism, followed by panic, followed by hope. He was caught in a dizzying merry-go-round of emotions, and when a single tear slipped down his cheek he could not have said whether it was from happiness or sadness. 

He had thought himself to be pregnant for weeks now.  
But he had never been sure. 

And now... now he was scared.

This was it. It was real.  
He was going to be a mother.  
A dam to his own child. 

What in all the Realms was he going to do?

Loki sat, fretting, rocking back and forth, his mind keeping him hostage. 

That was how Thor found him less than an hour later. 

The Odinson burst into the room without knocking, beaming as if he had killed every single one of his enemies and was on his way to Valhalla. His pace was quick and he was bubbling with excitement when he stood behind Loki, looking down at him. “Loki! I just heard! A boy!”

Loki let out a long breath, closed his eyes for a moment. He wished he could be alone, to curl up and ponder on the news, to consider what all of this meant to him now. 

But Thor, the big idiot, was having none of it. “Loki!” He was dancing on his toes behind him, a big child himself, and when it was clear he would not leave on his own volition Loki pushed himself to his feet with a sigh. The moment he was standing he found himself slung into a massive bear hug, pulled tightly against Thor's chest. For a couple of breaths Loki allowed himself to be held, melting into the touch, burying his head into the Odinson's broad shoulders. His body flooded with gratification and warmth, the way it always did these days when Thor came close or touched him. He heaved out a shuddering breath, tears threatening to overwhelm him.  
The moment Loki noticed he ripped his eyes open and leaned away, slapping against those hard arms that were holding him tightly.

He as not going to weep in Thor's arms. 

There was no way that was going to happen. 

Thor held him for a moment longer before he released him, still grinning widely He pressed a quick kiss against Loki's cheek, laughing when his consort growled at him. 

Loki was pretty sure that he had never seen the Odinson as happy as he did this very moment.  
It annoyed him to no end. 

The Thunderer took Loki's face into his large hands, his voice filled with wonder. “Eir told me the news. I am so happy, Loki. A boy. We are going to have a boy!” His eyes were bright, a few strands of hair had escaped his ponytail, falling messily into his face.

Loki swallowed hard.  
Yes.  
It was going to be a boy. 

Which probably meant it would be more Asgardian than Frost Giant, only sporting the male genitals, just the way Thor did. It could be a miniature version of the Odinson, blond and blue-eyes, and just as oafish and slow as his father.  
Then again, maybe the healer had not been able to tell the difference between an Asgardian and an Jötun babe. She probably would not be able to tell which color his skin would be or if he was going to grow horns.  
They would just have to wait and see. 

Loki looked up at Thor, who was still beaming at him. His throat was very dry. “Yes. A boy. I know. I heard.”

Thor pressed another kiss against his forehead. He did not notice Loki's inner struggles. Of course not. “Come. I have something for you.”

Loki heaved a deep breath. Thor was back to bribing him with presents once again. He numbly wondered what he would get for having become a brood mare. Thor's hands fell on his shoulders, and then he was gently pushed towards his bathing chambers. Loki allowed himself to be led into the cooler room, faced the mirror when they stopped in front of it. He took a look at himself, could see his weariness shine brightly in his eyes, darkening them.  
He quickly looked away. 

Thor was brimming with energy behind him, his hands still on his shoulders, kneading them softly.  
Being touched felt good, and Loki felt too mentally exhausted to shake them off.  
Thor leaned in towards him, showing a row of white teeth. “Close your eyes.”

Loki snorted. He was tired and confused. He was not up for games. “Really, I don't think...”

Thor pressed a kiss against his temple. By the Norns, his happiness was almost infectious. “Please.”

Fine. 

Loki exhaled wearily and did as he was asked. He heard Thor rummaging through his pockets, and after a moment something cool slithered along his forehead. Thor tugged at his left horn, earning himself an annoyed hiss, which did not stop him to do the same on the other side. 

Warm hands fell onto Loki's cool shoulders once more, hot breath washing over his ear. “You can open them.”

Loki did. 

He blinked at his reflection.

What Thor had attached was a fragile headpiece resting on his forehead, clipped into the golden rings at the base of his horns. Dozens of fine, golden chains ran down in wide bows over his eyebrows, gathering towards the middle where they were braided into a complicated pattern, connecting to a circular amulet. The amulet was finely carved, the depiction of two Icen wolves biting each others tails worked out in astonishing detail. From the bottom another chain ran to rest between his eyes, weighed down by a single tear-shape stone the color of Asgardian blood. It was counter-weighed by a second golden chain that ran from the amulet over the crown of his head, falling down his back.

It was an extremely precious gift. 

Loki swallowed. He opened his mouth, closed it again.  
He felt more like a prized horse or a particularly expensive whore than he had ever before. 

Loki realized that he was staring at his reflection, speechless. He ripped his gaze away returning Thor's look through the mirror. His mouth was dry. “Thank you.” There was really nothing else to say.

Thor grinned. “I had it made a long while ago, and I have been waiting for the right moment to give it to you. Today felt like the time had finally come.”

Loki looked back at the piece.  
Thor had had it made. 

It must have cost him a fortune. 

Loki closed his eyes, opened them again.

He opened his mouth to speak, wanting to ask Thor if he realized how much this felt like a payment for becoming the mother of his child. He wondered if Thor understood that the present made him uneasy because he felt like he was being paid for doing as he was told and complying to Thor's wishes, for giving in and swallowing his pride. A reward for being a good little consort. 

Loki looked at his reflection again, raising his hand to run his finger over the cool metal. This was another piece that would establish Thor's visible ownership on him for everyone to see.  
As if the collar was not enough. 

Loki tried forming the words to explain, wishing he could make it clear how cheap this present made him feel, as if he had been bought. He raked his brain, but after a long moment he realized that Thor would not understand.  
Slowly he closed his mouth once more. 

Thor's hands were still resting on his shoulders, and the rubbed wide circles into his flesh as he grinned. “I hope you like it.” His voice was soft and so very earnest, it made Loki almost sad for how oblivious the Odinson was. 

“It's beautiful” Loki said weakly. What was he supposed to say? Knowing Thor, he would not understand.  
Loki wished he could spit and snarl, rip off the jewelry and throw it at Thor's feet... but... but what?  
Was he actually worried about the oaf's feelings? Or was he just tired of fighting?

He contemplated this for a long moment, when Thor continued speaking, ripping him out of his thoughts.  
“You made me so happy, Loki. This child, it means everything. If there is anything you want, anything you need, just tell me.” He pressed another kiss against the cool temple. 

Loki stared up at the blue eyes, so open and honest.

Anything he wanted?

Fine. 

“Take it off.”

Thor stopped his rubbing motions, eyes darkening with confusion. 

“You don't like it? I thought...”

Loki did not blink, did not waver. “The collar. Take it off.”

Thor froze. His eyes narrowed and he pulled his hands away, straightening to stand tall. He had stopped smiling. “Loki, please. You know that I can't do that.”

“Can't or won't?” Loki slowly turned to face the Odinson, red eyes sparkling. “The collar constricts my seiðr to a point that I feel violated, foreign in my own skin. I can't imagine that being good for the babe. It might be harmful for it, even. ”

Thor's head snapped up, he took in a sharp breath. “I don't think that... No, I don't think that is possible.”

Loki shook his head, the golden metal shifting against his forehead. He continued to hold Thor's gaze. “But you don't know.”

Thor lifted his shoulders. Clearly this was not the discussion he had hoped to have today. “That was not... No. I will ask one of the sorcerer's but... I have been ensured the collar would not harm you. I can't imagine it would... it would not hurt our child.”

Loki's face was a mask. “Of course. I am sure that Asgardian sorcerers are wise beyond imagination and know all there is to know about how ancient dwarfed-forged slave collars affect pregnant Jötnar carrying inter-species bastards.”

Thor stared at him as if he had been slapped. “Loki. Stop it.”

Loki stepped up to Thor, pressing his finger into the broad chest. “No. You listen to me. My seiðr is part of me, part of who I am. And you have bound it, castrated me in ways you would never understand. How can you think that the child growing in my womb will not be affected by that? How do you know it won't be sick, or worse, because of me not being... not being whole?”

Thor had the decency to look pained. “Please, Loki. We have had this discussion.”

Loki sneered, hands fisting at his sides. “We have not had this discussion in years. And anyway, what are you afraid off I do? Set the castle on fire? Murder your best friends in their sleep? Start a revolution with my bare hands?”

Thor's eyes were dark. “Among other things, yes. You are a very strong Mage. You are a realm-walker. And you are... not happy. Not with me, with Asgard.”

“I wonder why?” Loki's voice was acidic.

Thor pushed a hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room. “I... this was not what I wanted to talk about. I love you, Loki, I truly you, but you can't expect me to trust you. Not yet. Please.”

Loki laughed bitterly, fingers roaming over the small clasps that held the headpiece in place. “You trust me enough to lay with me, night after night, you trust me enough to carry your child, but you do not trust me enough to walk freely?” He snarled when he could not unlock the piece of jewelry, holding himself back simply ripping at it. “So when you said I could have anything I wanted, you meant anything apart my basic rights? You were thinking I would ask for trinkets and sweets, and you are shocked that instead I am asking for you take this slaven device off me so that I can be whole again? Please forgive me, for a moment I actually forgot whom I was talking to. Clearly that was a mistake.”

Thor was looking at him as if he had been struck by lightening. “I... You...” He took a deep breath. His voice was low. “You are ungrateful. There is so much I already do for you!”

Loki lowered his hands to his sides, fisting them against this thighs “What? No, don't turn away, Thor, what have you done for me that I should be grateful for? That you bred me when I went into a heat that you pushed me in? Or for keeping me in a gilded cage? Which of those things should I be happy about?”

Thor had backed off at his consort's obvious anger. “I am trying so hard to make things better between us. And I will take the collar off in the foreseeable future, Loki, I swear. But not yet. ”

Loki felt his eyes burn. “As long as you keep me as your own personal pleasure slave things are never going to be good between us. Never, do you hear me, Thor?”

Thor opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. 

“I am sorry you feel like that is what I am doing to you.”

“So am I.” Loki snapped back.

Thor took a couple of deep breaths. Then he straightened himself. “Listen, Loki, please. I just want you, no us, to be happy. Why are you making it so hard for me?”

Loki blinked. “Why am I... Seriously?” He laughed, bitterly. “By the Norns, Thor, you are but a mindless idiot. I feel almost sorry for you.

Thor stiffened, shook his head. “I shall be taking my leave now, Loki.”

Loki sneered. “You do that.” He watched as the Odinson slowly made his way towards the door. “Oh, and Thor...?” Thor stopped, turning slightly towards him. “Do me a favor and trip and fall onto your sword, will you?”

Thor closed his eyes, sighed. 

And then he left. 

Loki listened as he made his way out of the room, quietly closing the door behind himself.  
When he was truly gone, Loki turned towards the mirror, staring at the sparkling headpiece for a long while. 

If Thor believed that this had been the last time they had had this discussion, he was sorely mistaken.


	32. Pregnancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, Happy New Year 2016!
> 
> Ok, so here is a fair warning. I am pretty sure I won't be able to keep up my more or less weekly updates from now on. Because... *drum roll*... I got a job!   
> Now this is an exiting thing because I have been out of work for a very long time due to severe depression, and as of January 4th I am going back to work in a job I actually went to university for 6 years for.... which is exciting but also daunting as shit. I expect finding my way back to working a 40+ hours week is going to be a challenge, and I probably won't be able to keep up with my 1-2 hours/day writing as I used to. But I am aiming for a bi-weekly update, and there are only about 10 chapters left or so. No problem. 
> 
> Because I have been all over the place these last couple of weeks, I have not had the chance to have this betad. Sorry about that. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think, because kudos and comments are the thing I write for. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Thor did not visit again for days, and Loki was glad for it. 

In the mood he was in he might have actually tried to throw a dagger at his so-called 'lover'.  
Just to see if it would stick. 

And maybe to find out if he could truly not deliver any serious harm to Thor because of the soul-bound the blood stone had forced upon him. After all, he had only been _told_ that he could not seriously harm the Odinson.   
He had never _tried_. 

Resentment over Thor's inability to see his viewpoint, to understand his need flamed brightly, and whenever Loki heard steps outside in the hallway, he tensed and grabbed a kitchen knife, maybe neither sharp nor balanced enough to be thrown, but it would have done well enough. 

But Thor left him in peace.

Good for him.

Loki calmed as the hours and days passed. 

The fire burning in his heart kindled down to small, hot coals of animosity that joined to the ones that were there already, adding to the pile of anger that had been growing for years.   
Yet, deep in his heart, Loki knew that Thor loved him, in his own, damaged sort of way. And he also knew that the Odinson was right to fear that the moment Loki had access to his seiðr, for when he did he would take a single breath and be gone.

Maybe the child would make a difference.   
Maybe it would not.

They would just have to wait and see. 

One good thing that had come out of their last fight was that the resulting resentment Loki felt towards Thor eased his agitation regarding the pregnancy considerably. Where he had panicked about the uncertainty a child would bring, he now laid his hand onto his stomach, whispering to the babe that was growing inside of him that one day the two of them would be free, together. His anger turned into a fierce protectiveness for a being he had never even met, which would still grow in his womb for years, but would be as much his as it would be Thor's. 

Loki was alone in his fight for freedom no more. 

This child, the boy, he would help him with it. 

Somehow. 

 

x

 

Loki made his way through the gardens roughly three days later, a book tugged under his arm, a small knapsack filled with food and drink slung over his shoulder. The plan was to find himself a shaded spot under a tree, maybe next to a small, gurgling stream and enjoy some peace and quiet. 

At least that was the idea. 

He had debated where to go as he made his way towards the outer gardens, eyes roaming aimlessly, when he turned a corner and stopped in his tracks. 

Frigga was sitting underneath a large oak, her skin dappled with sunlight. She raised her head and her lips spread into a calm smile when she saw him. Loki groaned inwardly, yet when she stood and nodded at him, he stepped up, returning her greeting with tight lips. 

“Loki. It is good to see you!” 

He took her offered hands and accepted her soft kiss on his cheek, the touch, minor as it was, spreading a soothing calmness through his body. Her eyes flicked up and down his form. “You look well.”

Loki sighed and lowered his head in return. “Lady Frigga. I thank thee. You too look well.”

Frigga smiled, still holding on to his hands. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

Loki shrugged, returning her gaze without blinking. “I am pregnant.”

Frigga laughed, the sound like silver bells in the moonlight. “So I heard. Thor was elated with the news.” She released him and took a step back, studying him. “So was I, I must admit. I can't wait to have a grandchild I can spoil to no end.”

Loki nodded, kept his face expressionless. “I am glad you are looking forward to the child as much as Thor is.”

Frigga's eyes darkened at his reply. She studied him intently, and for a moment Loki felt like he was splayed open, his mind and body revealed for an inspection of his deepest fears and dreams. He grit his teeth and waited for her to finish. Finally she nodded and turned to the side. “Walk with me if you will, Loki.”

Loki sighed but joined her obediently, ready for another lecture. 

He could do this.  
It was not like he had a choice, after all.  
Again.

Story of his life, it seemed.

Frigga smiled sweetly as he stepped up to her and then she slotted her arm into his, tugging at him to walk along the pebbled path, deeper into the royal gardens. They passed under the large oak, turning to the left, heading towards what he knew were the water gardens, an area littered with a wide array of fountains, ponds, streams and waterfalls. He concentrated on his own feet, how his blue toes curled into the sand-colored, fine stones beneath him, a stark contrast to her cream-colored leather-clad feet. 

It helped him to calm his mind.

There was really nothing he felt he could say to evade the discussion he was sure they were about to have. If Frigga wanted to have a conversation, she would. She was the mother of the next king of Asgard and the consort of the Allfather, after all.   
He would listen to her lecture, and then maybe he could go and salvage the rest of his day by forgetting the world in the depths of the book he had brought along.   
He doubted it though. 

They wandered in silence for a couple of minutes before Frigga spoke once more.“Thor has come to talk to me about you. About the collar.”

Loki refused to meet her eyes, keeping his gaze glued on the walkway. 

Frigga waited for a moment, then continued. “He was considering taking it off. We had a long talk about it.”

Loki took a deep breath, his fingers curling around the hard cover of the leather-bound book still tugged under his arm. He wanted to snarl and pull away, but he knew that would complicate things in a way he did not need them to. 

And he had had this talk with Thor already.  
Maybe Frigga would even listen to what he had to say.

Then again...maybe not. 

Loki kept quiet, waiting for her to continue. Her voice was as soft, as usual.“A couple of days ago Thor came to me asking my opinion about the collar and how I thought it would affect the babe. He wanted to know if there was even the slightest possibility it could hurt you or the child. He also told me that the two of you have exchanged... words over the matter.”

Loki snorted. 

Well. That was a nice way of putting it. 

They stepped through an iron gateway flanked by tall, blooming hedges radiating a soft, sweet smell. Frigga continued walking towards a white bench beside a pond covered with waterlilies. They stopped at the water's edge, and Loki concentrated on the bugs that were sitting on the clear surface, their long legs denting the water as they scurried over it without sinking. 

This was actually a rather nice spot. 

Frigga continued. “I have given it ample thought what might be the best course of action. You are going to be a mother, after all, and your health and the health of the babe is most important. More so than anything else.”

Loki swallowed hard. He raised his eyes and returned her gaze, reading kindness and sympathy in those blue eyes. “Please, don't misunderstand me, Loki. I have always said that collaring a Mage is a cruelty close to torture, and a gifted one like yourself... I can only imagine your suffering.” She stared down at the glittering water. “There is, however, the child to consider. And it is still extremely fragile, less than three months inside your womb. While there is information on the collar itself, nothing whatsoever could be found on how it affects pregnancy.” She sighed, stepped away from the pond. Her eyes glided over the small bench only a couple of steps away. It was overlooking the water and the rest of the garden. She turned back to Loki, her eyes shining with worry.“Would you like to sit?”

Loki nodded. His mouth was dry, and he swallowed a couple of times, trying to rid himself of the taste of ash that lay bitterly in his mouth. Slowly he followed Frigga, sat down next to her.

He knew what she was going to say next. 

He did not want to hear it, though. 

Frigga's voice was still soft. “I do believe that the best course of action for everyone involved would have been if you had had full access to your seiðr before conception. However it is obviously far too late for that now.” She took a deep breath. “I am sorry to say, Loki, I believe that removing the collar in the midst of your pregnancy would do more harm than good, for both you and the child.”

A flare of hot anger stabbed into Loki's belly, ripping through his intestines, flaming them up. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, keeping his voice evens. “Do you, now?”

Frigga had the audacity to look ashamed. “Oh Loki. I know I can't apologize enough for what I am going to tell you, but it has been discussed with our best sorcerer's, and they all agree with me.”

Loki laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “I am sure they do.”

Deep blue eyes widened slightly at his words, yet they did not lower when Frigga continued. “The stress of binding a Mage as powerful as you is enormous, on the body as well as on the mind. I am sure that you remember what if felt like the day you woke, cut off from your seiðr, how painful it must have been for you.”

Loki looked down at his hands that were curling into his book, fingernails digging dents into the hard leather. He was shaking, if only ever so slightly. His mind started to pull him back into his memories, back to that day when he woke among Alphas, chained to a floor, in midst of a war lost. Panicking because he had been... broken. 

And then... Then Thor had...

Loki blinked, forcing his mind back into the here and now. He did not dare to speak, worried that he could not suppress the irate words that had gathered on his tongue. 

Frigga was watching him closely. Her voice was soothing, calm. “It is known that the strain the collar forces upon the mind and body of the bound can be enormous. The chances are that taking it off will be similarly as agonizing in its intensity. Your seiðr is strong, Loki. It has been subdued and tied down for much too long. I don't believe it will be pleasant when the collar is removed. Your seiðr will have to mesh with your being once more, familiarize itself with who you have become over the years. That won't be an easy process.”

Loki shook his head, choked out: “I can handle it.”

Frigga's voice was still low, but very determined. “Of course you can. I don't doubt that, no one does. But your child, Loki...” Her eyes flicked down towards his stomach, staring at it pointedly before she looked up again “...your child is still so very small. Unleashing the power that is your seiðr and the stress that would come along with it would with a very high probability harm him. It might even kill him.”

Loki's eyes glazed with a thin layer of tears. “My seiðr would not harm the child. Never.”

Frigga smiled sadly. “I don't doubt you believe that, Loki. Still... I am sorry.”

He looked up at her, another wave of anger washing through him when he saw the pity shining in Frigga's eyes. 

Pity.

He was not to be pitied. 

Never. 

Loki straightened his shoulders, staring back at her. He cleared his throat, keeping his voice steady. “I have a theory as well. What if my seiðr is necessary to help my babe develop? What if that part of me being missing will stunt its growth, damage it somehow and prevent it from developing into an otherwise healthy child? What then?”

Frigga nodded, leaned back. Her eyes did not waver. “We have considered that possibility, of course. And it might be the truth. The healers will monitor your pregnancy very closely and will take the best course of action to prevent that from happening. But Loki, the chance that taking off the collar will harm the child is so much higher. It is not worth the risk.”

Loki felt a cold stab in his chest. “For whom?” 

Frigga sighed. “Loki. I know that this angers you. But please, think about what I have said. Consider it. And once he child is born, you should talk to Thor again.” Now her eyes roamed out over the lake, clouding with thoughts. “Thor loves you very much. But he worries that you will leave. Give it a little more time, and when the babe is born and he believes that you might stay, he will take it off. He would do anything to make you happy, Loki. Anything.”

Loki laughed out loud. “Anything but allow me my freedom. Or to go home. Or live without him. Anything else.” He snarled, pushing a shaking hand through his hair. “He does not care about what I want. He cares only about himself, and will never consider me for whom I am. You say it is because he loves me. I say because he is an idiot who does not and has never considered his actions.”

A blue dragonfly flit around Frigga's head, and went off to hover over the water. She sighed deeply.“Your relationship has started much worse than many others. It is not perfect and probably never will be. But Thor loves you with all his heart. I have told you a long while ago, and I will tell you again: Use it to your advantage. You are smart enough, Loki.”

Loki grit his teeth.  
There was nothing left for him to say. 

He would be collared through the pregnancy and probably for a long while beyond it. 

Whatever. 

He tugged his book closer to his chest. “If you don't mind, I would like to bid my goodbye.”  
Frigga nodded and stood with him, offering him another kiss. 

He walked away, his cheeks burning with indignation, his head tumbling with thoughts. 

Loki roamed the gardens aimlessly until he found a secluded little corner and sat down, like a wounded animal that would hide to lick his wounds. There he remained and stared into nothing until the suns were starting to set. 

The worst thing was, Frigga had planted a seed of doubt in his head.   
His seiðr _was_ strong.   
What if it, meshing back into his being, depleted him of all of his energy and took away from the babe, harm him in some sort of way? Or what if it noted his anger and the foreign being that had been planted inside of him, and react in a way he would not be able to prevent?

Loki knew he could not hurt the child, never would. 

But he was not sure that his seiðr would not do the same. 

He snarled and dug his fingers into the soft ground beneath him, felt earth crumbling under his nails. 

None of this was right. 

And there was nothing he could do about it. 

 

x

Days passed. 

Weeks.

A month. 

And then another. 

Loki calmed once more. 

He made his peace with Thor, if reluctantly so.

Still, their relationship was shaky at best.

Loki was moody, especially as the pregnancy progressed, and more often than not did the Odinson find himself thrown out his consort's room because of a thoughtless remark or ill-placed question. He learned to monitor his words, for any little misconduct tipped the Frost Giant into a rage that found Thor scrambling for cover, ducking away from flying plates that shattered against the wall above him. 

Thor knew he had not done right by Loki, and he tried his very best to make amends. 

And while he did not like that whenever he said something his consort hissed and snarled his replies at him, pointing out, again and again, all the ways he had wronged him, there was one thing made Thor happy: Loki cowered no more. He spoke his mind, shrieked it in rage sometimes, but he was himself. No more masks. No more groveling. No more hiding.

As little fun as it was for the Odinson, he still was glad.

Thor had learned that while Loki did not like to receive presents, he still made sure that the kitchen stocked up on things his consort enjoyed: wintergrain and frozen fish, cold soups and thinly sliced meats. Every now and then Thor went to Midgard to get more iced cream, knowing how much Loki loved the frozen treats, and when he found that Loki had developed a strange but endearing craving for cherries he had them brought from all the corners of the realms. Loki ate them all: Small, black ones that were as sweet as pure sugar, larger, bright red one that burst with juices, and the tiny white ones that Thor managed to find in Svartálfheimr, that tasted faintly like Valhalla and honeysuckle. 

No matter what color, size or taste, Loki's eyes lit up at the sight of the small fruits, and he would sit in silence and eat until his tongue was bright red and the corners of his mouth stained with sweet juices. And while he would still glower at Thor, he would be peaceful for the treats. 

The Odinson would in turn sit and watch him, eyes filled with hunger of a different kind. 

Loki blossomed beautifully with his pregnancy.  
His skin turned luminous, his eyes sparkled, his hair and horns shone even more than before.  
The light bulge of his belly grew, and sometimes Thor would catch Loki cradling it, stroking his own flesh with soft caresses, murmuring to himself. 

It took Thor's breath away how stunningly gorgeous his consort was.  
Vulnerable.  
Soft.   
Beautiful. 

Though he would never tell him as not to be insulted in return. 

And as Loki's stomach grew, Thor wished he could touch it, caress it, let his hands roam over the curving skin. But he did not dare to ask. And Loki did not offer. So the Odinson yearned and wished, but stayed at a distance as he watched his babe grow and his consort calm. 

 

x

 

Time passed.

 

x

 

Everything considered, being pregnant was not as bad as Loki had feared it would be. 

The first couple of months his body hardly changed, and apart from cravings for certain food at all times of the day, yearning for touch he did not allow himself to indulge in and his moods changing like the wind in a summer storm, which was to say often, everything remained the way it had been. 

Loki rode to the ice houses, met his tutors more frequently, he read and bathed and did his best to bide his time.

Frigga visited Loki about once every two weeks, and while Loki was irritated with her after their talk about the collar, her soothing demeanor and soft laugh endeared her as the months passed. After a while he even started to appreciate their meetings where they would walk in the gardens or meet in his rooms and simply chatted. Frigga was intelligent and witty, and her sharp mind could see things that were usually hidden to others. 

Time passed and Loki's stomach continued to grow. 

And every now and then he would sit, staring at his slightly protruding belly, wondering what creature he and Thor had created. 

If he would be able to love it.

For sometimes he was not sure he could.   
And then there were the times he was not sure how he could have ever doubted loving the babe. 

Pregnancy was a time of confusing emotions. 

And it seemed to last forever.

 

X

Almost a year into his pregnancy, Thor asked Loki if he wanted to join him and Frigga to a trip to the tree Mímameiðr. To pray for the health of the babe. 

Loki did not even think about his answer. He glowered at the Odinson and shook his head resolutely.

As usual, Thor did not know when to stop.“ I was thinking we could make a whole day out of it. Pack a nice lunch, maybe stop in some of the villages on the way...”

Loki snorted. “Yes. Give the townsfolk something to talk about for the next couple of centuries. The king-in-waiting was here with his mother and his half-naked pregnant spoil. What a great idea!”

Thor frowned, pushed a couple of random hairs from his face. “They wouldn't...” 

Loki laughed without humor “Of course they would. But it is of no matter. I am not going.”

Thor sipped at his mead once more. “I wish you would.”

Loki shrugged. “Don't care..”

Thor gave up. 

That evening, when Loki sat in bed, he marveled over the fact that Thor had actually imagined that hr would have in any way, type or form wanted to go back to a place where he had once been happy.   
Just once, and just for a very short time.   
Where he had felt the power of his universe.   
Where everything that could have been between Thor and Loki, was buried. 

Mímameiðr held more pain in what he had lost than any other place. 

Loki tossed and turned, his bulging stomach shifting against him, keeping him from finding a comfortable spot.  
He found little sleep that night. 

x

 

The bigger Loki got, the harder it was to move. 

He hurt. 

His joints, his back, his feet.   
Everything was swollen, everything bugged him in one way or another. 

Everything. 

Loki decided he hated being pregnant. 

x 

The birth was less than a year off now, give or take a couple of months. 

It was late afternoon, Loki was sitting on his sofa, broad-legged, head hanging low, his fingers kneading into his lower back to relief some of the pressure pains that had build there. He lifted his head when Thor knocked, huffing in annoyance before he called him in.  
He continued massaging his back in slow, continuous circles. 

He heard Thor walk in, crossing the room, stopping behind him. “Loki. Are you well?”

Loki snorted. He ached, he was hot, he was moody. He craved fresh cherries and frozen fish.

No. He was not well.

“Backache” Loki grit out between teeth, rubbing harder against his sore flesh. 

The sofa dipped in behind him and then he felt warm hands hovering over his cool skin, threatening to to make contact but not daring to. The Odinson slotted himself behind his consort and then hesitated for a moment, before his voice, rumbled behind him. “May I?”  
A sharp stab of irritation bloomed inside of Loki, but he actually hurt and he was more touch-starved than usual. So he gave a curt nod before uncurled his fingers from his flesh, closing his eyes. As usual the contact lit a small fire of warmth and comfort in his belly and he bit his lip to suppress a low groan. Then he exhaled sharply when the warm fingers dug into his lower back.   
Thor stopped for a moment, but when Loki did not complain he started to move his thumbs over his flesh in small circles, kneading the cramped muscles with a satisfying amount of pressure. Loki arched his back into the touch, and Thor continued his ministrations, digging and kneading, soothing the strained muscles with his fingers. His touch alone made Loki want to melt back and cuddle against his mate, but he suppressed the urge. Instead he groaned out again.

Thor's voice was close to his ear, leaning in. “How does that feel?”

Loki's eyes were closed, relaxing against the touch that soothed his aches. “Good” he answered honestly. “It feels nice to be touched.”

Thor's fingers stopped moving for a moment before they continued once more, wandering up along the sides of his spine. Loki bit his lip when he realized what he had said.   
He had not been thinking. 

Thor's voice was calm. “You know you can always come to me if you need to be touched, yes?”

Loki snorted softly, shifted, groaning when his swollen belly rubbed against his legs. “I am sure I can. But I am usually not in the need of being fucked, thank you.”

Thor had reached Loki's shoulders, and his hands hesitated. “Me touching you does not necessarily mean I wish to sleep with you.”

Loki sighed heavily, shifting against the fingers that were still laying on his skin, unmoving. Thor understood and started kneading again. Still, Loki's voice dripped with sarcasm. “Really? I was not aware of that fact. Maybe because whenever you touch me you fuck me right after.”

Thor ran his hand back down to his lower back, pressing them in there. “Well, maybe you just always kept me too far at a distance to notice.” He stopped, apparently thinking. Then he continued, voice even lower. “Or you could deny me, after all. When you do not wish my... affections.”

Loki felt like snarling back, breaking into a fight, but he realized how much he longed for the touch, how good Thor's warm hands felt on his cool skin, and he swallowed his angry answer down. He growled under his breath and remained quiet. 

Thor worked on his lower back for a long while, then he stroked along Loki's skin, up and down, over his shoulders down his arms, covering him with touch, easing his muscles just so. He smoothed out his hair and then finally dug his fingers into Loki's scalp, coaxing another low moan from him when he massaged him in small circles. Loki sat, cradling his swollen belly.

It felt good, his skin so very sensitive and he felt himself relaxing into the touch. When Thor finally stopped he did not resist when he was tugged backwards, slowly sinking into an embrace, settling back against the broad chest. He curled up in the strong arms, Thor's fingers brushing along his sides until they tentatively slid over his swollen belly.  
Thor whispered: “You are getting so big.”   
Loki hummed his approval sleepily as the warm fingers continued to stroke him. All of the sudden the babe kicked, hard, denting Loki's skin. 

Thor froze, and he sucked in a breath. “I can feel him.”  
Loki smiled lazily, his eyes still closed. “Yes. He is quite agile these days. Keeps me awake at night.”

He could feel Thor's content oozing around him, and his voice was filled with wonder when he spoke. “That's our son, Loki. Ours.”

Loki hummed again. He sunk deeper into the arms cradling him, snuggling into the warmth.   
Yes.  
Theirs. 

His. 

x

 

It was another night, and Loki was sitting by the window, staring out into the galaxy, a large bowl of cherries on his lap. He ate the sweet fruits, one after another, spitting the pits out of the window into the gardens below. 

His stomach by now ballooned in front of him, and Loki stroked it absentmindedly.   
The birth was now less than half a year off.

He was hot and ungainly.   
Tired. 

He could not wait to finally give birth.

There was a low, tentative knock on the door, and Loki hardly moved, calling to let Thor in.  
He gave him a quick glance and immediately saw that Thor's face was clouded over with what might have been worry. He stared at him for a moment, then plucked another cherry from the bowl and popped it in his mouth. The sweetness of the fruit burst on his tongue, and he rolled the pit around, sucking at it with pleasure. Thor walked towards him, eyes dark, and he stopped about a meter away from his consort lounging on the pillows on the floor.

Loki looked up at him, continued to stroking his own stomach. “Thor. Sit, please.” He pointed to the rest of the pillows. Thor nodded, sat down slowly, folding his legs awkwardly underneath himself. He shifted and twitched, and Loki threw him a glowering glare to calm him down. 

It did not work.

Thor sat still for a moment, then he sighed, leaned in.”How are you doing today?”

Loki smiled, spat out the pit, watched how it flew out of the window in a wide arc.   
If they were lucky there would be a cherry-tree forest in a couple of years beneath the window. “I'm good thanks. You?”

Thor frowned, fidgeted. “I need to speak with you. About Jötunheimr.”

Loki froze, his hand hovering over the bowl, shivering slightly. He kept his focus on the colorful fruit mixed in the large glass container as the pit of his stomach dropped and heat bloomed all over his limbs. Carefully he picked up another cherry, eyeing it. Then he looked up at Thor, who was watching him closely. Loki swallowed. “What about it?”

Thor's brow was furrowed, and he hesitated for a moment before he continued speaking.“There has been an uprising. It was beat down, but still... it is worrisome.”

Loki nodded, raise his fingers and sucked the fruit into his mouth, hardly tasting it when he bit down on the soft flesh. 

Thor rumbled, his eyes flicking down onto his fingers curled in the pillow beneath him. “It was just a small horde of disgruntled former Warriors who have been caught. They had tried to assassinate our local overseer. Apparently the attack was ill planned and they did not even reach him.”

Loki spat out the pit. His mouth was dry all of the sudden. He reached for some light mead, took a small sip. He stared at the amber liquid. “To be perfectly honest, I am surprised it has taken them this long to finally do something. But what is it to me?”

Thor nodded when Loki offered him a cup of mead, took it. “Oh, it's not the first time, by any means. But they have never gotten so close before. Also, they were more than usual.” He took a sip of the light beverage. “And that's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Loki felt as if the air was sucked out of the room. He could feel Thor's tension, and he was sure that, whatever the Odinson was about to say, he did not want to hear it. 

Thor shifted again, took a sharp breath. “Going back there to give birth might be too dangerous for you. For you and our son.”

Loki felt like the whole world had stopped around him. All of the sudden his babe kicked him with all his might, and Loki laid a soothing hand onto his belly, massaging it. His voice was quiet. “You promised.” 

Thor nodded vigorously. “I know, I did, but this has changed things. The mood in Jötunheimr is not... good at the moment. And I worry about you. About your safety” Thor leaned in, his hand inching closer toward his consort without touching. “If somebody harmed you or the babe, I would never forgive myself. So I was thinking you could have him here, and...”

Loki snarled, his eyes sparkling. “No. He is going to be the next ruler of Jötunheimr. He can't be born here!” 

Thor's voice was low, soothing. “He will be king no matter where he is born. But here we can be sure that he is safe. You will have the best midwives, and once he grows he will have good tutors, and...”

“NO!” Loki snarled again. The bowl of cherries on his lap tipped over with his abrupt movement, spilling the red fruit onto the floor around them. He did not care. “You _promised_. You said I would get to go home, to birth our son in the realm he is going to rule! You will not go back on your word! Do you hear me, Thor? You WON'T!”

Thor watched him carefully. “It will just be until everything is under control again. Until things have calmed down enough that I can be sure that you are safe. Then we can visit your home, together. But right now...”

Loki heaved for breath, his mind was racing. “The Jötnar will never calm, don't you understand? They are a proud people. A fighting people. They will resist you until the day that every single Asgardian has cleared the Icen realm. And then they will fight your for their honor lost. If you wait until Jötunheimr is safe, I will never...get to go...home.” The words hiccuped out of Loki and he took a moment to calm, to breathe. “And if our son is born here, in Asgard, the Jötnar won't accept him as a king, not ever.”

The moment he said the words, he realized that they were not true. 

And looking up at Thor he knew that he also understood. 

Deep down, he had always known, after all.  
The Frost Giants would never accept their child as their ruler.   
Not the interracial bastard of the Asgardian king and the Mage traitor.   
They would fight him the way they would fight any other Asgardian. 

Until the end of all times. 

That's when Loki realized that he was never going to go home. 

Not ever. 

And that's when a dam in his heart opened and a single tear slipped from the corner of his eye. It was followed by another, and another, until a steady stream of wetness snaked over his skin, along his mouth, dripping from his chin. Loki took a shuddering breath, then slumped over, buried his head in his hands. 

If Thor was already going back on this promise, what would be next?  
Would he take the child from him the moment he was born? Have him raised somewhere else so that his mother could not whisper rebellious thoughts into his child's perceptible ears? So he could not spoil their babe?

And what about him?

Would he be caught in this damned realm until the end of all times, kept as a brood-mare to a king who did not keep his words to his slaves?  
Would he ever see the Icen realm again?

Loki sat, chest heaving, tears and snot wetting his face. His babe moved again, and he tried to compose himself, for the child, if not for Thor.   
His voice was low and it shook slightly as he whispered: “I hate you.”

Thor's eyes widened, and his mouth curled downward. He leaned in, a warm hand ghosting over Loki's shoulder, but the moment he touched his consort, sending another surge of warmth through him, Loki's head snapped up and he batted the hand away. “Don't touch me!” His voice was rough and he could taste salt on his tongue. “You have no right to touch me.” Loki heaved in a breath, realized he could not get enough air, and the struggled to breathe as the tears continued to fall. 

Thor did not move away. “Loki, please...”

Loki gasped another breath. “No. Thor, get out. Now.” He sobbed and dug his face back into his hands, so he did not have to see the world around him “Get out and don't come back. ” He could feel hysteria bubble under his surface. Thor had taken his last hope from him, and what else was there if he wasn't even allowed to go home?

He took another shuddering breath and could not hold back the low whine that spilled from him.

Thor fidgeted next to him. “Hush, Loki, it's Ok...”

Loki ripped his eyes open, stared at the blurry Odinson, mouth pulled into a snarl. “It's not OK! It's never going to be OK! GET OUT, THOR! GET OUT!...” Loki realized he was screaming. His mind has turned into a big, back malström that his thoughts were sucked into, he knew that he was stuck here and that he was never going home, and he might as well... might as well....

His fingers clawed into his stomach, and then Loki felt warm hands on his wrists, pulling at them. He snarled but had little strength when compared to Thor, and then he was swiftly turned around and pulled back into an unwanted embrace, his back resting against the Odinson's chest.   
“Let go of me!” He shrieked, his whole body twisting against the warm restraint he was caught in. Thor pressed his mouth against his ear, rocking him back and forth, back and forth in a soothing motion. “Hush, Loki, please, it's ok.” He snarled and hissed, feet drumming the floor while Thor hesitated, keeping his struggling body contained.   
Finally the Odinson continued, voice low and urgent. “If it means so much to you, you can go back. Do you hear me, Loki? You can birth him in Jötunheimr. In the castle of your father. Ok, Loki? Are you listening? Please, Loki, calm down...”

Thor's hands were like steel around him, and Loki continued kicking until the words reached him, and he slowed his movements until he slumped in the cage of Thor's embrace. “I hate you!” He whispered under his breath.

Thor pressed a soft kiss against the top of his head. “I just want what's best for you. But if it means that much to you, it will be so. Just don't...” Thor hesitated for a moment, pulling him even deeper into the embrace. Loki wanted to fight the warmth that surged through him, but the whole debacle had left him feeling empty and tired. “When the time has come I will need you to take healers and guards along and follow rules that will keep you safe. Do you understand, Loki? Please.”

Loki was shivering, exhausted with all the emotions twirling through his head. His stomach was pulsating. 

Thor stroked along his wet cheek, continued to hush him. “But he will be raised here. You can go back every now and then, we can set up a schedule for you to visit home, but our son has to be safe...”

Loki made no sound. He felt as if the life had been sucked out of him. 

He was tired. 

Thor rocked him, slowly, carefully. “I want you to be happy. Please, just allow me to keep you safe. I don't know what I would do without you, Loki.”

Loki took a shuddering breath. Finally he managed to speak. “Get out.”

Thor rocked him for a moment longer, his consort like a rag doll in his arms before he reluctantly released him. “You are upset. I don't want to leave you like this.”

Loki glowered at him, but he did not reply.   
When Thor finally backed off, he curled up on top of the pillows without another word, his face stinging with the salt of the tears that were drying on his skin. He closed his eyes, hands pressed against his belly, feeling his child's agitated movements under his fingertips. He hummed under his breath to soothe it, and he ignored Thor's words, shutting the world out. 

After a long while he heard the Odinson walk out of the room and finally leave him in peace.

His child was going to be born at home, and that was all that mattered.

Loki rocked his own body, head void of emotions, and when he fell asleep, exhausted, he was almost glad for it. 

 

X

 

About three months later Loki felt like he could not move anymore.   
His whole body was swollen, his belly extending in front of him, and he had to waddle to get anywhere, heavy and clumsy.

The heat of Asgard was sweltering, and no matter how many hours he spent in the cold pool of his bathing chambers, he could not cool off. He got more and more lethargic, sweat slicking his skin from dusk till dawn. At one point Thor had brought in a boy that fanned him, trying to keep cool, but it was to no avail. 

Since Thor had upset Loki so very greatly, Eir came to visit him once a week, monitoring him and the child closely. Her fingers continued to ghost over his stomach, in the same pattern again and again, stroking and prodding. Once day she finally smiled as she straightened, nodding at Loki. “The babe has lowered and is shifting. Your time to come down is approaching. I think it will be time for you to go back home.” Her eyes were warm and filled with understanding. 

Loki smiled weakly. He was hot, uncomfortable, and moody to a point where he felt like throwing sharp little objects against everyone and anything.   
The news offered a flash of happiness though. 

Home.   
Jötunheimr.

Finally.

Eir told Thor, and when he visited him less than two hours later, the Odinson did look rather worried.   
“The guards and midwifes are preparing for the departure.” His eyes roamed Loki's body worriedly. “Do you think you can ride? Or should I get a wagon for you to travel in?”

Loki snorted, massaging his overripe belly. “You are not going to put me into a wagon like an animal. I am not disabled, I am pregnant. I am going to ride.”

Thor frowned, hands kneading his trousers. “Are you sure? I would not want to harm you...”

Loki snapped, heat wavering through his body. “You asked me, I said I am going to ride. If you want to put me into a wagon, don't ask.”

Thor raised his hands, smiled weakly. “Sure. Whatever you say. Eir said we still have plenty of time until you give birth, a week or two at the least. So will it be fine if we leave in the morning? Or are you going to need more time?”

Loki shook his head. His feet were swollen, his back hurt, he was hot and miserable. “We could leave right now, for all I cared.”

Thor nodded and stepped up, laying his hand onto Loki's shoulders. The warm hand was almost too much, but the ease that it came with made it almost worth it. “Impatient, as always.”

Loki hummed his agreement. 

He spent most of the evening in the cool pool, Thor massaging his scalp. That night he watched his maid from his bed, pointing in different directions as she packed his things, wide pants and books that would not freeze, soaps and shampoos, furs and blankets. 

His encourage consisted of four soldiers that would watch over him, a healer and a midwife, a messenger who would call for Eir when his labor started, as well as a maid. Loki rolled his eyes at the ridiculous amount of people, but Thor was fretting, and Loki was not up for another discussion in something he knew he could not win. 

He was allowed to go to Jötunheimr if he followed the rules.   
And apparently surrounding himself with way too many people was part of that deal.

Whatever. 

Thor helped Loki onto his steed, and he rode next to him.

Loki closed his eyes when the Bifröst opened, heart fluttering in anticipation. There was a sharp tug as they were pulled into space, and seconds later cold air hit his skin, the never-ending winter storm of the Icen realm ripping at his hair, ruffling the fur-trimming of his cloak. 

Loki took a deep breath, pulling ice-cold air into his lungs. 

He opened his eyes. 

His lips spread into a wide smile. 

He was home.


	33. The firstborn son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter have to warn for a rather explicit birthing scene. Again, I understand the concept of childbirth but no more, so if anything is unrealistic, just trust me that Jötnar do it different. Yeah.   
> And of course there is angst. As always, please take care when reading. 
> 
> Now for this chapter...this is it.   
> The most satisfying thing I have ever written and one of the best ideas I have ever had. 
> 
> In March of 2015 I wrote three main scenes for the story, a little bit on the culture of Jötunheimr, Loki's rape and then this chapter. And when I finished writing those, I knew I had a real story. I also knew if I wrote this piece I would have to make it at least until here, just to see whether you guys liked the idea as much as I did. 
> 
> So please, enjoy and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Also, a major thanks to everyone leaving kudos and subscribing and bookmarking, and, above all, commenting on it. It really keeps me going knowing that so many of you like what I am doing.   
> Due to personal time constraints I have not been able to get this chapter betad, so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Now I hope you enjoy!
> 
> *giddy happy dance*
> 
>  
> 
> x

Home.

He was finally home.

Loki took a deep breath.  
Emotions twirled through his mind, twisted and turned, and for a moment tears of relief burned in his eyes. 

He had been waiting for this moment for so long. 

And he finally made it.

Loki shook his head, glad that the storm was whipping strands of hair into his face. It gave him the opportunity to wipe at his eyes inconspicuously before he pulled his hair back into a tight bun, to keep it from lashing his face, again and again.   
The babe kicked him viciously, struggling inside his womb. Loki took a deep breath, and then another, focusing on his breathing, in and out, in and out, as he willed himself to calm. It would not do to go into labor right here and now, just because he could not keep his emotions under control.

Loki sucked in the cold air greedily, coughing when snowflakes burned in his lungs.  
Then he smiled. 

Oh, how he had missed this. 

He was ripped out of his thoughts by the soldiers moving around him, the sounds they made muffled by the howling wind. He looked up when Thor rode up next to him, forcing his horse alongside Loki's. The Odinson was hunched over his steed, his hand appearing from under his thick, red coat to brush over his arm. Loki could see concern burning brightly within his blue eyes, the question in them visible even in the twilight of the Icen realm.

“I'm all right!” Loki nodded at Thor, unsure if he had spoken loud enough to be understood. 

Apparently he had. 

Thor nodded back, a small smile of relief tugging at his lips. He pulled his horse away and raised his arm, his command “Let us go!” audible even over the cacophony of the snowstorm. Within minutes their small caravan moved towards the tall buildings visible in the near distance. 

The capital. 

Útgarðar.

Loki narrowed his eyes, tried to make out the condition Laufey's castle was in, but they were still too far away. 

It took them a while to get close enough, the storm layering snow like a cloth over its surrounding.

Finally Loki could make out the outer walls, could see the state of disrepair they were in. A large portion of the city walls, destroyed in the last battle between Asgard and Jötunheimr lay in rubble on the ground, several Frost Giants climbing on the enormous piles, digging through the refuge.   
The Jötnar workers were few and far in between, large beings that were bent against the onslaught of the storm, carrying rocks and large pieces of ice, obviously trying to mend what had been previously destroyed. 

As they rode closer Loki managed to catch the eyes of one of the Giants, who, when he straightened and stood in his full height could have been nothing else but an Alpha Warrior. Loki read the brandings on his dark blue skin, studied the stories of honor and pride, wincing when the lack of horns told the tale of defeat instead. 

The red eyes of the Jötun narrowed when he noted the Asgardian unit approaching, and he stiffened visibly when they fell upon Loki, heavily pregnant high up on his horse. Loki could see his gaze flicking over his markings, and could actually pinpoint the moment the former Warrior recognized him, as his face crumbled with revulsion and disgust. 

He saw the Jötun snarl before he abruptly turned away, bending back down to continue with his menial task of carrying stones. 

Loki wrapped his cloak closer around his body, his fingers ghosting over his enormous stomach bulging in front of him.

He had known how the Frost Giants would feel about him.  
About what he had become. 

Still, it hurt. 

But he was not going to cower.

This life he now led, it had not been his choice, after all.   
It had been Thor's. 

Loki raised his head, eyes narrowing against the sharp wind that pelted him with ice and snow. 

He was a prince.  
The last of the living nobility of Jötunheimr. 

He was not going to forget it.   
And neither would they. 

For the rest of the way he kept his head high, meeting glare after glare of the few Frost Giants that noticed them, glowering a challenge at each and every one of them. They all stared down at his belly, knew the state he was in and in return he could read nothing but loathing and contempt in those blue faces. 

Still, he did not lower his eyes. 

By the time they had reached the castle he felt like he had mentally sparred with every Frost Giant they had met on the way, and Loki was weary for it. He dismounted slowly with Thor's help, smiling tiredly when his toes dug into the icy snow. His eyes lifted, and he stared at the castle looming dark in front of him. 

Home. 

Loki swallowed hard, standing still as the rest of the soldiers dismounted all around them, their booted feet crunching on the cold ground. Thor took his arm and led him up the stairs, Loki's hand resting on his large stomach, huffing with every breath. 

He swore felt like he was going to explode any moment now. 

Thor was patient with him and waited as he climbed step after step, and gave him a moment to breathe after they arrived in the dark entryway of the castle. 

Loki knew that they were heading towards the throne room when Thor led him straight ahead, deeper into the maze of gloomy hallways. The walk was much longer than he remembered, the weight of his belly slowing him down considerably. He was glad for Thor's hand stabilizing him, for Loki feared that if he fell now, he would not be able to get up anymore, helpless like a tortoise on its back. 

He focused on his surroundings, realized that he had forgotten how dark and bleak the castle was, no tapestries or mosaics embellishing the walls and floors, unlike Asgard. Inside the building he could still make out the desolate howling of the never-ending winds as their footsteps echoed all around them. 

They turned one last corner and stood in front of the entryway to the throne-room, guarded by two Asgardian soldiers, their red and gold uniform strangely out of place in this dark, cold realm. Thor nodded at them in greeting and then the doors swung open.   
Loki's mind was flooded with memories as they stepped into the vast hall, his eyes flicking over to the large, blue throne, where his father used to sit.

It was empty.   
Obviously. 

Loki blinked. 

The whole room was brightly lit by candles, a newly-build, enormous fireplace opposite the throne warming the air to something that the Asgardians might find tolerable. 

Thor led Loki towards a dark, wooden table to their right where a tall man with white-blond hair was sitting. His ice-blue eyes had snapped up the moment the doors had opened, his sharp gaze falling upon them as they stepped into the room. When he saw Thor the man stood, a large smile spreading his features. 

“Thor! My Lord. Welcome back to Utgard.” Loki winced at the bastardization of the name of the capital, but he stayed silent. 

The man walked around the table, coming towards them. He was wearing a light leather armor, a thick fur cape falling over his shoulders, no doubt trying to shield him from the never-ending cold of the realm.   
The man grinned broadly as he came towards them, slapping Thor's shoulder. “It has been weeks, oh mighty Thor. I thought you had forgotten about us.” 

Weeks?

Loki swallowed hard, forcing himself to hide his surprise.   
Of course he had known that Thor would have to visit Jötunheimr every now and then.   
It was his realm to rule, after all. 

But weeks?

And Thor had never even offered to take him, if just for a couple of hours?

Loki took a deep breath, decided there was no use in getting upset over something he could do nothing about.  
He was tired and weary. His back hurt. His feet were sore, and he felt like the weight of his stomach was going to force him to his knees some time soon. 

So Thor has been here often.   
Whatever.

“Dellingr. It's good to see you too.” Thor nodded at the man before he turned back towards Loki, placing a warm hand upon his shoulder. The light blue eyes of the man followed the movement and then focused on Loki, cold and calculating. Loki raised his chin as the gaze roamed over his body. Finally the man's mouth pulled into an unsavory smile, not quite a sneer, but close enough. 

Loki glowered back, a silent challenge. Unfortunately the effect was destroyed by him shifting, pushing his large belly forwards, his hands folded protectively over his own flesh. 

Thor did not notice the silence exchange, once more oblivious to non-verbal clues. “This is my consort, Loki.”

Dellingr nodded, his eyes were once more focused on the Odinson. “Ah, yes. The peace-hostage. I remember.”   
Loki could feel the disdain in the words, see the arrogance in the stare. He suppressed a snarl, wondering where he knew the man from. 

Those cold eyes, blue like fresh ice... He had seen them before. 

Loki roamed his brain, knowing that the Asgardian had not been at any feasts recently, which made sense if he had been governing the Icen realm, after all.

But he had seen him before, in Asgard and later...later...

Loki's mouth went dry.

His eyes widened as memories flashed behind them, memories of a darkened tent, thick blood dripping silently from the altar, the stench of it breathtaking, like iron in the air. 

The day Jötunheimr had lost a war.   
The day his father and brothers had been killed.  
The day he had been debased. 

Dellingr had been there. 

Loki swallowed hard. 

Fantastic. 

The realization must have flashed over Loki's face, for the man's grin broadened for the fraction of a second. Then his attention turned back to Thor. His voice was smooth, belying the intent in his words. “I see that he is blessed, my Lord. Your favors, I presume?”   
Loki's skin turned hot as anger washed through him, but he simply grit his teeth and took another deep breath.  
Thor, standing at his side, smiled broadly. “Yes. He shall give birth within the week, or so I was told.”

Dellingr nodded. “I am glad for you, Lord.” He cleared his throat. “As we have discussed before, unfortunately I have neither the man-power nor the facilities to care for him in his... state.”

Thor's hand was still resting on Loki's shoulder, kneading it affectionately. “I have taken your concerns into consideration. But it was important for Loki to give birth here, in the castle of his father. And who am I to deny his request?” Thor laughed, and Loki did his best not to turn and snarl at the large idiot. “Either way, I have brought enough soldiers to watch over him, and healers and maids to take care of his every need. He shall be none of your concern, my friend.”

The blonde man nodded again. “As you wish, my Lord. I would still recommend, for his own safety, that he stay in his chambers and does not roam the castle. I would not want to be at fault if anything happened to him.”

Thor lowered his head in agreement. “Of course.”

Dellingr continued, voice emotionless, still not looking at Loki. “I understand a birthing room has been found.” He grimaced, as if disgusted. “I know little of those kind of things, but I will have someone sent to you to go into the details.”

Loki shifted, cradling his stomach. His back ached, and when Thor stepped a little closer and pulled him back to lean against his broad chest, he obliged.   
He was exhausted.  
He really needed to rest. 

Thor's voice was still calm, collected. “Your help is appreciated.” His eyes flicked down at his consort, and his fingers stroked a soothing rhythm onto his blue skin. “If you will excuse us, we will be taking our leave. Loki is weary, it has been a strenuous journey. I presume my rooms have been prepared?”

Dellingr stared at Loki who was leaning back against the Odinson, and the revulsion was now hardly veiled. “Yes, my Lord.”

Thor nodded. “Good. I thank thee. I shall bring Loki there to settle him in, and then I shall return to speak to you. As you said, it has been a while.”

Loki straightened himself when he felt Thor shift behind him, almost gratified when he was offered an elbow to hold on, another hand steadying his hip. 

They were done. 

Thank the Norns. 

He had to sit. Or sleep. Either of those things would do at this point. 

Loki leaned heavily on Thor as they made their way out of the throne room into the familiar hallway, turning towards the royal wing. Thor walked slow to allow the time he needed, stopping every now and then to allow him to breathe deeply as his babe shifted, to straighten his back before they continued on.

Finally they reached the room Thor had chosen to reside in. 

The royal chambers. 

Laufey's rooms. 

Of course.

Loki was too tired to make a fuss about the fact, so he simply nodded at the two familiar soldiers that were stationed outside, wrapped in thick furs. Thor pushed the doors open, and they stepped into his father's former rooms.

Loki swallowed hard, realizing that while had always known where the kings rooms were, he had never been allowed to enter them, not even as a child. 

The sleeping chamber was grand but empty, the high walls carved out of thick ice and dark stones, another fireplace added into one of the corners. The bed was large, big enough to hold two full-grown Frost Giants, and Loki shuddered at the thought that Laufey and his dam, Fárbauti had once shared this very bed.

He wiped the thought away. 

The bed as well as the floors were covered in thick furs, and while it was still much cooler than in Asgard, the temperature of the air had been heated for Thor's comfort. 

Loki made his way towards the bed where he sat down with a heavy sigh. 

By the Norns, few things had ever felt as good as did resting his legs right now.   
He drew in a breath, the babe pressing against his diaphragm, making it harder to pull air into his compressed lungs. He leaned back a little, propping himself up on his arms while his swollen belly rested heavily on his thighs. 

He could not wait to finally give birth, to be able to walk and breathe normally again. 

Thor went to his knees in the furs in front of him, his smile soft. He reached out for one Loki's feet, pulling it into his lap. Then he slowly stared massaging it, warm fingers digging into cool flesh. “How are you feeling, Loki?”

Loki sighed at the feeling of Thor rubbing life back into his tired limbs. “I am sick of being pregnant.”

Thor laughed under his breath, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “I can only imagine. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Loki did not think, shook his head. He just needed to rest. 

Thor rumbled deep in his throat. “I will have to leave you again soon.” He dug his fingers a little deeper, pulling a satisfied groan from Loki. “There are a couple of things I still need to do in Asgard. But Sweyn and Meinolf are just outside, and your maid, Álfgerðr, will make sure you have everything you need.” Thor carefully placed Loki's foot back down onto the floor, picked up the other. “If you go into labor, or if there is anything else, anything at all, the messenger will fetch me. I should be able to come back to your side in just a couple of hours.” Thor hesitated, smoothing his rough palm over Loki's skin. “Unless you would need me to stay with you?”

Loki closed his eyes as he relished the massage. “What would I need you for?”

Thor laughed softly once more. “Nothing, of course. I just wanted to give you the choice.” He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the stretched out belly. “I hate leaving you like this.”

Loki shrugged.“I'll be fine.”

“I know you will be.” Thor sighed deeply. “Just one more thing, Loki. You heard Dellingr, I have to ask you not to leave your rooms while you are here. Please.”

Loki snorted. “I can hardly move. I am not going to wildly run through the corridors any time soon.” He looked down at Thor, rolled his eyes at his frown. “Sure. Whatever. I will stay here until this child is born and I can finally move again.”

“Good.” Thor leaned in, kissed his belly once more before he pressed his ear against it. The Odinson started to whisper, though Loki could still make out the words. “And you, my son, don't cause your mother any grievances. Be a good boy. I am looking forward to meeting you soon.” Another kiss, and then Thor placed Loki's feet back onto the floor and rose. 

He pressed another kiss against Loki's forehead and then took his leave. 

Loki slowly laid back, shifting onto his side on the enormous bed, fingers curling into the white hairs of the pelts beneath him. 

He was home. 

Now he just had to give birth and then... then he would have to work out a plan. 

He closed his eyes, and soon slipped into a shallow dream where he walked over a plain, the snow crunching under his feet, and the Ice wolves howling in the darkness. 

 

x

 

Over the next three days Loki did very little, apart from eating, sleeping and sometimes staring out the window, if he could be bothered to get out of bed.   
He gorged on his childhood foods and read some books until he drifted back into sleep, dreaming deeply.

 

x

 

On the fourth day Loki woke after a nap mid-morning to a sharp pain digging into his lower back.   
It took his breath away.  
He ripped his eyes open, his fingers wandering over his stomach. He could feel it cramping under his hands, the hot agony blooming deep in the bottom of his spine, ripping a low moan from him. He curled into himself and stared at the wall with wide eyes, holding his breath as his body had its way with him. The spasms stopped gradually and Loki sucked air into his lungs before the second wave of pain hit him.

Loki gasped. 

The babe. 

It was coming. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and whined loudly. His belly felt as if it housed a monster that was trying to claw its way out.   
It was agonizing.   
Loki started panting, remembering that Eidr had told him to breathe into pain, but it was to no avail. It took a few minutes for the contractions to finally subside once more, and when they did Loki laid still for a long moment, wiping at the sweat that had gathered on his brow. 

He waited, frozen for the pain to return, but when nothing happened for several minutes Loki shakily peeled himself out of his covers and stood, cradling his stomach. He slowly walked to the door and opened it, turning towards Sweyn who was positioned outside.

Loki looked at him, willing his voice to be steady. “The babe, it is coming. Call the midwife. Tell her to prepare.”

Sweyn's eyes flicked down his form, then he gave a sharp nod and hurried down the hallway.

Loki returned to the bed shakily and sat down on it, waiting for the healer who appeared only a few minutes later. She stared at him, approaching him quickly. “How are you doing, my Lord?”

Loki shook his head. “I am having contractions, I believe.” He looked up, winced. “It hurts.”

The woman bent down and laid her warm hands onto his belly. She kneaded it carefully, her fingers pushing and stroking, her brow furrowed. “And it will hurt a lot more before the babe has arrived.” A satisfied look spread over her features and she looked up, nodding. “You were right, my Lord, your child is coming. It will be a couple of hours yet, but I think it would be best if we bring you to the birthing chambers now, where we can prepare you.”

Loki nodded and stood, carefully, allowing himself to be led out of the room. 

x

 

It turned out to be one of the longest nights of Loki's life.   
The storm picked up in the course of the evening, howling over the crackling of the fire.

Loki could feel his son moving, wanting to leave his body, and for hours on end he walked in circles, cursing and spitting at everyone in his proximity as pain racked through him, doubling him over. 

Thor arrived only a couple of hours later, grinning broadly, but the smile was wiped away the moment Loki saw him and released an particularly vicious tongue lashing. He backed off slightly and watched his consort from the side, helpless as Loki continued walking with slow, steady steps. When another vicious contraction ripped through him, forcing an anguished cry from his lips, Thor stepped up, growling at one of the midwives. “You need to help him, now! He is in pain.”

The woman, an elderly lady with large, kind eyes looked over, then turned back towards Loki. “He is going through the usual pains that childbirth brings along, my Lord. There is nothing to be done but wait.” She leaned in to knead Loki's stomach, the other midwife holding him by his elbow so he would not sink down to his knees. It took several minutes for the contraction to end, during which they told Loki to breathe, wiping away his tears as he trembled and panted for air. 

Thor shook his head, stepping up closer, his voice a rough. “There is something you must be able to do. I command you to do something.”

Loki glared up at him through teary eyes and hissed between clenched teeth “Get that fumbling oaf out of here!”

Thor looked down at him with wide eyes, and when Loki snarled again, he left. 

The elder midwife smiled at him and took his elbow, and they continued the long, tiresome walk in large circles. 

x

The labor lasted forever.

Loki walked through the birthing rooms hour after hour, a woman on each side, steadying him whenever a contraction shook his body. They whispered kind encouragements to him as they stroked his open hair from his sweaty brow or rubbed his lower back in slow, soothing motions. 

At one point the contractions did not seem to stop and finally the healer led Loki into the middle of the room where a thick pole, wrapped with soft leather strips emerged from a low depression, laid out with an array of soft pelts. Loki curled his fingers around the stick and shakily lowered himself down, kneeling onto the furs. The pains continued, spreading from his lower back, and Loki breathed through them, pushing his forehead against the thick wood, riding them out. 

Eidr had finally arrived as well, and her calming touch was a welcome distraction. She kneeled down next to him, murmuring soothing words under her breath as her long, warm fingers clinically pressed against his swollen, low-riding belly, kneading and pushing. When she raised her eyes her voice was soft but firm. “It won't be long now, my Lord. But I ask you not to push, not yet.” 

Loki nodded to indicate that he had understood, pressing his eyes closed as another wave of pain washed through him. He was panting, focusing on a bead of sweat that pearled from his neck, slid down his body and dripped onto the pelts beneath him.   
He bit out a curse at another vicious contraction, swore that, when this was over, he would disembowel Thor, just so the Odinson would know what birthing his son felt like. One of the healers pressed a cool cloth against the sweaty skin of his forehead and carefully wiped it along the sides of his face and down his neck. She worked carefully and rung out the soft cloth before she continued with his his chest, the slick coolness like a soothing balm against his feverish skin. 

The next pain ripped through him and Loki screamed, easing his own suffering by vocalizing it. He dimly remembered that in Asgard crying out loud during childbirth was seen as a sign of weakness, but he seriously did not care for ancient, ridiculous conventions.   
Not here.  
Not now.   
Birthing _hurt_ , and there was nothing else to ease his pain. So if screaming made bearing this burden easier, so be it.

Also, a small part of his mind hoped that Thor could hear him and feel sorry for what he had done. 

Loki rode out the never ending cramps in agony. If he had not know any better he would have sworn that someone had stuck a spiked maze into his lower belly and was now, slowly, turning it. He keened, felt a fat tear roll over his cheek and took a deep, shuddering breath. He blinked his eyes open when he felt a warm, dry hand on his shoulder. Eidr was kneeling in front of him, pressing her hands into his abdomen, blue eyes boring into his red ones. 

She was smiling. “Now the time has come, my Lord. Now you push.” 

One of the midwives continued to rub soothing circles onto his lower back, increasing the pressure. Loki grabbed the pole tighter, lifting his knees from the floor while spreading the stand of his feet, stabilizing himself.

Then he pushed. 

Loki growled as he felt the pain moving lower down towards his pelvis and he continued pushing, working with the torment of the cramps, embracing them to help him work even harder.   
He could feel Eidr shifting next to him, and then she gave him another soft squeeze, her voice authoritative. “Very good, now stop! Stop pushing, my Lord, that's it. Follow my breath, in – and out -, in – and – out, in – and – out...“ 

Loki slumped forward and rested his head against the wooden pole, curling his toes into the pelts beneath him. He focused on breathing, just as he was told, panting like a dog in the hot afternoon sun. 

“Good, that's good, we are almost there.” Eidr's voice was low and caring, and her warm hands shifted along the cool skin of his overripe belly, stroking it calming. 

Loki had started to shiver with the strain, whimpered as he could feel the babe move again. 

It was so close now to being born...

He shook his head and ground his forehead against the smooth wood, forcing himself not to push, to concentrate...don't push...

Then Eidr shifted and when he looked up he was relieved when he saw her nod at him. 

“Now, Lord. One last time. Push.”

And Loki pushed. 

He bored down, his fingers clawing into the wood in front of him as he grit his teeth, growling deep in his throat. He could feel the child pressing into his birthing canal, felt a rush of liquid between his legs as the babe worked its way lower and lower.   
He laid back his head and screamed, giving one last, hard push and finally the small body slipped out of him, caught by Eidr whose hands were between his legs, still kneeling in front of him.

He heard a low gasp to his right and the shattering of a clay container that was dropped, but he was too exhausted to even turn at the sound.   
Loki carefully brought down his knees, shivering with the strain of the prolonged birth.   
He felt like crying, like laughing, so many emotions rushing through his wrought-out body.

He was exhausted. 

But he wanted to see his babe.   
Wanted to hold him. 

Loki blinked his eyes open.  
The first thing he saw were the shocked faces of the two midwives standing next to Eidr. The healer had wrapped his child into a white, thick cloth, her face pale and drawn. 

There was utter silence in the room.   
The child was not crying. 

Nobody moved. 

Loki felt a stab of fear in his belly. He cleared his throat, voice hoarse from screaming. “Let me see him. I want to see my child.” 

The heads of the two midwives snapped up and they turned to focus upon him, fear and horror shining brightly in their eyes. One of them stepped back as his gaze fell upon her, shaking her head as she mumbled under her breath. 

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Loki felt the dread crawl up his spine, strangling him with cold fingers. 

He must have made a sound because Eidr finally looked at him, her face softening. She took a deep breath, took another look at the bundle in her arms, then turned towards the others, voice low and icy. “Get a grip on yourself. Now. You-” She pointed at the younger woman. “You get warm water and clean the Lord. You -” She turned towards the elder midwife “- You massage his belly, the afterbirth still needs to be expelled. Move. NOW!”

Eidr watched the two women for a moment making sure that they were following her instructions.

Then she turned back to Loki. 

Her eyes were weary, her mouth set into a firm line.   
Loki stared up at her, felt tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. 

Something was wrong.   
Something...

“Is he dead?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.   
Eidr' eyes were glued onto his as she slowly went down onto her knees next to him, his babe still in her arms. She had turned the bundle away so he could not see him. 

The child was utterly silent. 

“I want to see him.” Loki tried to make his voice to be sharp, authoritative, but he could hear his own fear thick in his words. He was still grabbing on to the pole, knowing that if he let it go he would crumble into a pathetic pile onto the floor. 

Eidr's face was somber. “My Lord. The child is....I...” She took a deep breath. For the first time since Loki had met her she was at a loss for words. That scared him more than anything else. “It....it may be a curse.....”

Loki was shaking. “I command you. I want to see him. NOW.”

Finally she stretched out her arms to allow him to look upon his son. He numbly let go of the pole and lifted his arm to peel away the cloth that was tightly wrapped around the babe. 

He blinked when he saw him. 

Between the soft folds of the bundle was a small wolf cub.

Charcoal fur was slicked wetly against his slender body, small paws kneading the cloth. 

Loki stared, open-mouthed.

A wolf cub.

 

A wolf. 

 

Loki noted how Eidr had started to speak, mentioning something about a curse or the wrong-doing of a sorcerer, her babbling unheard. 

Loki ignored her. 

Carefully he reached into the bundle and stroked the sticky fur, the tiny being whimpering at his touch. All of the sudden the little wolf twisted and turned towards him, opening his eyes.

Eyes blue as the sky. 

Thor's eyes.

Loki's raven-black hair and Thor's blue eyes. 

A large smile slowly spread over Loki's face. 

He leaned in closer, cooing at the small being. “Well, hello there.”  
The wolf's eyes trained on him and it opened its toothless snout and gave a low whimper. 

Loki's smile broadened. 

He hardly noticed the midwife massaging his stomach, staring up at him with obvious fear on her features. Neither did he notice how the other had fled the room or how Eidr was staring at him, brow furrowed. 

There was nothing but his child. 

Once his afterbirth had left his body the women hooked their arms under his and helped him stand, leading him to a comfortable reclining chair in the corner.   
When he sat down he stretched out his arms. “Give him to me.”

Eidr passed him the small bundle and Loki took him carefully, cradling his son in his arms.   
He gave him a soft kiss on his furry forehead. 

Another thought crossed his mind. 

Thor. 

Loki smiled. He did not look up as he spoke, utterly captivated. “Please tell Lord Thor that he can come and see his son.” He failed to note the shocked expression on the women's faces, having picked up one of his babe's paws, stroking it with a finger. The wolf stared at him, then started kneading once again. 

It took Loki a moment to realize that nobody had moved. He looked up and gave Eidr a hard glance. She took a deep breath and then nodded at the elder woman who finally turned and left the room hurriedly. 

Loki hummed at his child, carefully swaying him. 

He could not wait for Thor to get here. 

 

x

 

It took the Odinson less than a couple of breaths to arrive.  
He must have waited just outside the birthing chambers.   
When he walked in his eyes were shining brightly, an enormous grin on his face. Loki looked at him, realizing that the Odinson had not been able to read news from the faces around him.

Oblivious as always. 

Good. 

Thor stepped up to Loki, focusing on the bundle that his consort was gently swaying in his arms. The Frost Giant had turned it away so Thor could not see what he was holding, and he smiled when the Odinson leaned in to press a kiss against his sweaty forehead. 

Then Thor leaned forward, curiously. “Let me see him, Loki. Let me see our son. Is he beautiful?”

Loki smiled sweetly. “Oh yes. Yes, he is.”

He turned the bundle towards Thor, relishing the moment when the Golden God _saw_ what he was holding. Confusion washed over the Odinson's features as his eyes slid over the body of the small wolf and then his face fell. His eyes, ripped wide in surprise, flicked up to Loki who had been watching him closely.   
“What...what is this?” Thor looked down at the babe in obvious bewilderment, then up to his consort again. “Is this a jest? One of your tricks?” Thor stepped back, pushing one hand through his tangled mane. His mouth was set in a grim line. “This is not funny, Loki.”

Loki hushed his babe that had started to mewl, fingers running along silky fur, soothing the upset creature. 

“It is not a jest, Thor. No.” Loki looked up, a smile still playing around his lips.”And I agree, it is not funny.”

Loki started swaying his son, humming under his breath until the small being settled once more.   
“Have I ever told you the story of how the Ice Wolves of Jötunheimr came about?”

Thor looked up at him, eyes wide and troubled. “What?” he asked, dumbly.

Loki almost felt sorry for the Odinson. 

Almost.

“You see...” He continued, left index finger carefully stroking along his sons silky snout, staring into the blue eyes of his father. “There is a legend on how the Icen Wolves came into existence. It is a ltale almost as old as time itself.”

Thor stared at him. “I....”

Loki hushed him. “Please, allow me to speak. Things will make a lot more sense to you then.” Loki let out a small, delighted laugh, then continued. “The legend goes like this: Many, many tens of thousands of years ago, just after the dawn of time when the Jötun had just appeared on the Icen lands, a young Mage was roaming the woods. He had left his Alpha for the day to gather food and herbs, and he did not notice the stranger, an ørlendr, stepping up to him.” Loki smiled. “The stranger wooed the young Mage with a story, his words sweet as honey, or so it is told. When the Ergi stepped close enough, lulled into safety, the ørlendr attacked and bound him. Then he took the Mage against his will, in a way that only his mate should.” 

Loki placed another soft kiss on his sons forehead. 

Thor just stared at him, his mouth hanging open. 

Loki continued, voice soft. “When it was over the Mage fled home, his honor and happiness destroyed. His Alpha looked for the stranger, yearning to slay him for what he had done to his mate, but he was gone. Months later the young Ergi noted that he was with child.” Loki shifted his babe, looked up, slowly, catching Thor's gaze. “Three years later he birthed a litter of white wolves, one male, one female, the mother and father of all the Icen Wolves of Jötunheimr.” Loki's red eyes bored into wide, blue ones. “For you see, Odinson, violence can only beget violence, and a Mage taken by force will produce something as monstrous as the crime committed against him.”

His face was a hard mask as he stared at Thor, but when as the little wolf in his arms kicked he turned back down, making low, crooning sounds. 

Thor blinked. “But...but...I…you ...you chose....”

Loki did not stop his swaying motion, but his voice was cold as ice. “I was put into a collar that suppressed my magic, kept in Asgard against my will and had the choice between my continuous rape or death. If that is not force, Thor, then what is?”

“I....” Thor stepped backwards. His eyes were ripped wide, his hands fisted at his side. He continued shaking his head as if he could deny the story he had just been told. “I meant to protect you …. and I thought....you and I.....”

Loki slowly raised his eyes again and just stared at the Odinson. 

He watched as Thor continued to splutter and grovel, trying to make excuses for something that could never be forgiven. Finally he stopped, white as a sheet, staring down at his consort holding the monster in his arms he had forced upon him. 

Then Thor turned and fled the birthing chambers. 

Loki hushed his son who had started fretting and started to sing an ancient lullaby.   
It was a song that Jötun children had heard for many thousands of years from their dams. 

A song about the Ice Wolves howling in the night.


	34. The name of the son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry for the long wait.  
> It turned out starting a new job after a long time of not working was mind-blowingly difficult. But I was even sent to London on a business trip for 5 days, and guess what? I managed to meet uluka, my amazing beta-reader and it was...amazing. 
> 
> Thanks to her for checking this chapter for all grammar mistakes and for sticking by me for so long.  
> This story will be done in under 50 chapters, that is clear...And next weeks chapter is already done and ready to go, so it is not all bad. 
> 
> Thanks to all my readers for leaving the crazy amount of 40+ comments on the last chapter, you guys are the best thing in the world.  
> Hugs and kisses to all of you!
> 
> Now, enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Thor had fled and left Jötunheimr.

Well, that was not really a surprise.  
Not by any means.

Loki spent the next two days resting and cooing his newborn son, hardly able to tear his gaze from the small, black-haired bundle.   
His child was clearly a beast, though Loki realized that he did not love him any less for it.   
The pup displayed an avid hunger, suckling greedily the moment Loki placed him at his teat, while his large blue eyes watched his surroundings inquisitively. 

The little wolf was healthy, and that was all that mattered

Loki was pleased.

For maybe now Thor would finally realize and accept that what had been done to him was wrong beyond compare.

Monstrous, even.

But for now the Odinson was gone, leaving Loki and his son to their own devices.

Two of the midwives had fled alongside Thor, most likely weaving tales of a monster born to the royal consort for anyone in their path that would listen.

Eir had stayed behind, the elder healer ensuring that the mother and his child were well. She watched Loki quietly, her light eyes troubled, but she had no ill words to spare as she let her seiðr run through Loki's body, making sure that he had not suffered any internal wounds. 

Loki and his son were fine.

The healer left just two days later, leaving instructions for Loki to rest as much as he could, eat and drink to restore his energy and to feed the babe whenever he hungered, though no less than four times a day. She did not hesitate before offering to return if there was any sort of trouble. 

Loki thanked her and watched as she left, cradling his babe in his arms.

When they were finally alone, Loki carefully laid his son onto the enormous bed and curled up next to him. He ran his fingers through the thick, soft baby pelt, the dark fuzzy bundle a stark contrast against the white furs. 

Loki smiled, his eyes softening.

His son.

He was so very beautiful.

His mere existence held so much meaning.

The Norns had finally deemed to bless him.  
They had looked upon his plight and decided to act in his favor.

Loki continued stroking the silky fur that was curling in little tight ringlets all over his body, spreading his fingers to comb through it.

He smiled, snuggled closer to his son.

A wolf.

A visible reminder of the crimes that had been committed against him.

Nobody had expected this outcome.

Nobody. 

Not even he himself. 

And knowing the Asgardians, rumors now would spread easily enough, like a wildfire in a dried-out forest. The thrall consort of the king-in-waiting had given birth to a beast, even though his magic was bound.

Witchcraft.

The thread of which fairy-tales were spun.

And Thor, he would have to face these rumors.

Loki frowned. 

Thor.

That coward. 

The Golden One, the Thunderer, the God who boasted that he could slay more enemies in the battlefield than any other man or woman alive, who was brave enough to kill a bilgesnipe with his bare hands. And yet, when he had been confronted with the consequences of his foul actions, he had fled. 

Well. 

Loki huffed out a breath. 

He would be back. 

And when he was, one of three things would likely take place. 

Loki laid his head onto the furs, his face close enough to the baby's snout that he could smell his milk-sweet breath. 

The first thing that could happen was that the Odinson would accept his beastly son and return with his little family to Asgard, thus confirming to everyone what had been whispered in the alcoves and alleyways of the capital was, indeed, the truth. The mighty Thor and his blue-skinned spoil had spawned an animal. 

The second thing Loki thought might happen was that Thor would take Loki back to Asgard, forcing him to leave his child behind, in the hands of a less than favorable warden. 

But his mind churned, over and over, and in the long nights when he tended to his son he had come up with the worst scenario. What if Thor would return simply to slay the wolf pup, to rid himself of the visible shame? And afterwards either take Loki back to Asgard or blame solely him for the birth of his beastly son?

Hot anger and a hint of ice-cold fear washed through Loki, and he took a deep, deliberate breath. 

No.   
That was not going to happen.   
Not Thor.   
He might be thoughtless and idiotically oblivious to the extreme, but he was not deliberately cruel. 

At least not usually. 

And if he tried to murder his own son...  
Well.   
He was welcome to try.   
For Loki would not stand for it.   
It was as simple as that.

Loki took a deep, controlled breath, not allowing his thoughts to dive any deeper into the vision of having to fight for the life of the little wolf.   
No use in worrying over something he could not predict.   
He would deal with the future when it arrived.

He shifted, settled again. 

Either way, Loki could not fault the Odinson for running.

Especially not when he remembered how keenly Thor had been looking forward to having a family, hoping for a healthy baby boy, a child he could bounce on his lap, teach how to slaughter his enemies and prepare to one day rule Jötunheimr in the name of Asgard. 

A smile snuck back onto Loki's features

Yeah. 

That was not going to happen.

He let out a low laugh under his breath, silencing himself when the babe shifted at the sound.   
His eyes softened once more. 

His little wolf.

His miracle.

Loki’s hand ghosted over the pup, carefully twirling some inky-black curls in his fingers.

His son needed a name. 

Loki had, of course, had come up with different names during his pregnancy, some grand and befitting a pale golden child, others muted and dark, well suited for a shape-shifting realm-walker.   
He had been hesitant in choosing, for in recent Jötnar tradition the Alpha father of the babe was the one to pick a name, and only after the child's horns had started to grow. It was common for Frost Giants to wait for their children to grow strong enough to survive the hardship of the Icen realm before they were honored with a name of their own. For in the ruthless lands of ice and snow there was no need naming a babe when the chances of survival were slim.   
And a name held power and brought nothing but a deeper love and more pain when a little one was ripped from the arms of its dam too soon.

But this child, it was _his_

The little wolf was conceived in his pain, born from his suffering.   
He had earned the right to name it, no one else. 

Loki let his eyes roam over the small wolf, hair black as the night, as dark as the atrocities that had been committed against him. 

Blackness. 

Shadows. 

Nighwalker?

Loki frowned. 

No, that did not seem right. It was not befitting. 

Loki threw another glance at the small pup and then carefully turned onto his back to not disturb its sleep, staring at the ceiling.

He wanted the name of his first-born son to _mean_ something. 

The wolf had been conceived through his own anguish and suffering, and his being reflected the hardship that Loki's life had become.  
A life that had been inescapable, somber and cloying. 

From the day his horns had started to grow Loki had had to fight, first against the hatred of his father, against the beliefs of his people, later against the prejudice of the Asgardians. And last but not least he had fought against a love so grand it was deemed fit to hurt and humiliate in order to keep him alive, forcing him into a life of captivity and servitude. He had been pressured to kneel and submit, to bow his head and allow the yoke of imprisonment to weigh him down.

Loki had sunk deeper and deeper into a morass of anguish he could not escape on his own. And in a moment of light, when biology allowed him to accept his place, he had conceived a new life. 

A gift. 

A miracle. 

Loki turned his head and stared at his infant son once more. 

The little wolf, a being that had risen from the depths of a swamp of despair that had seemed inescapable. 

He was hope. 

Fenrisúlfr. 

Wolf risen from the swamps

Loki heaved a deep breath and turned back towards the babe. He curled around the small boy as if to protect it, shielding its body from the outside world.

He pulled the little one closer, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead, thus rousing the pup, the baby-blue, clear eyes blinking open. The little one gave a small sneeze and then slowly opened his mouth, breaking into a big yawn, little pink tongue curling into itself. 

Loki stared at it thoughtfully. 

“Fenris?” The sound rolled of his tongue easily. 

It felt _right._

He wished he had his seiðr to confirm what his mind believed to be suitable, for a name was a powerful thing and should not be chosen lightly. 

The little one focused his crystal gaze upon him. Then he pulled the sides of his mouth up, as if in a smile.

Loki smiled back. “Fenris.” He rubbed his thumb over the forehead of his child, blessing him in the ancient way that dams would their babes. “Fenrisúlfr. Do you like it, little one?”

The babe grinned at him, then gave a yip, started rocking on his back, kneading the air.

Loki pulled the little being towards his chest, pressing the soft warmth against his cold skin. 

He hummed low in his throat. 

This was his miracle. 

This was his salvation. 

And no one could take it away from him. 

Not even Thor.

x

A day passed. 

And another.

The Odinson did not return. 

Loki got restless. 

His feet itched with the need to walk, to wander, to explore. He had not been able to move freely for such a long while, his pregnant body having tied him down more successfully than any chain, and now the need to move became overwhelming. 

He did not know when Thor would return and he decided he was not going to sit in these rooms tending the babe and reading, waiting for someone to release him. 

He needed to get out. 

Now. 

It was just after sunrise, he had fed the pup, had eaten and quickly washed from a small bucket. He combed his hair and braided it, then pulled on a pair of billowing trousers that rode low on his hips and were gathered at his ankles.

He cautiously wrapped his infant son in a soft cloth and gathered him in his arms, pulling him to his chest.

Then he pushed the doors open and stepped into the corridor. 

Outside, the two guards were still positioned by the sides of the entrance, hovering over two small iron fire-baskets, trying to keep warm in the piercing cold of the Icen Realm.   
They raised their heads when the door opened, and Sweyn turned towards Loki, offering a small nod of acknowledgment. His eyes fell onto the bundle in the Frost Giant’ arms, and when he looked back up his face was a blank mask, carefully controlled. “My Lord? Can I help you?”

Loki smiled easily, head held high. “I am going for a walk.”

The two soldiers shared a quick glance, and then Sweyn turned back towards him, clearing his throat. “My Lord, we were told to keep an eye on you, for your own protection. I don't think...”

Loki threw his head back, interrupted with a low but cutting voice. “Am I a prisoner? Will you detain me in these rooms? ”

Again glances were exchanged, and the other guard shifted uncomfortably, a deep frown on his face. He could not tear his eyes from the black wolf pup in Loki's arms. Sweyn however focused on Loki, his face solemn. “No, my Lord. You are free to leave as you please. However you may not be safe on your own, and Lord Thor...”

“Lord Thor is not here. And I wish to walk. Will you stand in my way?” Loki knew his voice was cutting, but he did not care. He wanted to move. 

And he wanted to move _now_.

Sweyn shook his head minutely and stepped to the side, his fingers curled tightly around the wooden shaft of this spear. “It might be safer if I escorted you, my Lord.”

Loki shrugged as he passed him. “It might well be. And yet I wish to be on my own.”

Sweyn nodded. “As you wish.”

Loki continued walking down the hallway with even, measured steps. 

Neither of the soldiers stopped nor followed him. 

Good.

He turned a corner, and then he was on his own. 

Finally. 

He had not planned where he wanted to go, unsure whether the guards would actually allow him to leave. 

But it was of no matter.   
Loki simply enjoyed having escaped the confines of his rooms and to feel _free_. 

He walked slowly, rocking his son in his arms, listening to his even breathing, quiet over the howling of the storm outside. The hallway was as empty as it had been when he arrived, the padding of his naked feet echoing through the high ceilings as he ascended a flight of stairs, visions of his childhood blooming in front of his eyes.

All of this was familiar. 

Dark and smelling of icen dust, memories not necessarily good nor happy. 

But memories of his childhood nonetheless. 

He took a long time roaming the hallways in the upper parts of the castle, wandering through desolate areas that were filled with dirt and rubble. Room after room was dark and empty, the windows broken, the winds howling through holes in the masonry.

Every now and then he simply stood and stared into the empty chambers, wondering who had lived there, whether they survived the war and had fled, or if they simply had fallen like so many other. Though the castle had never been crowded, the diminished numbers of the Jötnar had turned much of his childhood home unoccupied.

Loki's step faltered and slowed to a stop when he realized where his feet had carried him. He stared down a long, narrow hallway that he recognized, dark, unhappy memories possessing his mind, like old ghosts that did not wish to fade though they were welcome no more. 

Loki shivered, raised Fenris, pressing a kiss against the silky fur, a soothing gesture to calm himself. 

The rooms of his childhood. 

Loki forced his feet to continue walking until he stopped in front of the small, crooked door that led to the chamber that had been his refuge as a child. 

Haven and prison alike. 

He hesitated and then pushed it open, staring emotionless into the dark and dreary space. His eyes flicked around, over the small, dirty mattress, the empty bookshelf, the tiny window. Memories of loneliness and desolation, of shattered hope and unfulfilled dreams twirled through his mind like leaves caught in a hurricane. 

He had been so unhappy here, and yet so hopeful for the future. 

The babe in his arms started to mewl, eyes slowly opening as he felt his mother's agitation rolling off him in waves. Loki blinked and looked down, hushing the small creature before he started to croon. He slowly stepped back and closed the door, imprisoning the unsavory visions of his past in darkness once more.

This was his home no more.

Though where his place was as of now was hard to say. 

Loki stood on top of a flight of stairs and stared into the empty darkness.

He did not want to return to his rooms, but the aimless wandering did not offer the sort of satisfaction he had been craving. Instead it made him sad and angry to see how the mighty castle of the Jötnar had had fallen into disrepair, occupied only by ghosts. It also reminded him how great the losses of the war with Asgard had really been.

And there was nothing he could do. 

Loki took a deep breath, forcing down the cold, righteous anger that was bubbling up inside of him.

He would have to do something, that much was clear.   
But right now was not the time to act. 

Though his time would come. 

One day. 

He looked down at Fenris who was staring up at him with large blue eyes. “Where do you think we should go to, hmmm?” The babe blinked, ripped his mouth open for another deep yawn. Loki smiled and pressed another kiss against his son's forehead, rocking him gently. 

Where should they go?

Where had he always wanted to go, but never had been allowed to?. 

A smile spread over Loki's features and he slowly he made his way back down the stairs, this time directing his feet towards a specific location. He had remembered the rather poorly stocked library of his father, a place he had never been allowed to enter as a child, though he had always craved to see it.  
He wondered what kind of books his father would have kept. Were there old, tattered ones filled with ancient wisdom that his people had passed down generation by generation, lost after the thousand year war? History that had been forgotten? Knowledge about the Alpha and Ergi status, or even insight on how the Mage's caste was set up?  
Maybe even books about seiðr? 

Loki's anger had been dampened, replaced by anticipation, and he turned corner after corner until he finally stood in front of the large, dark doors of the library.

He stepped up, reaching out to turn the thick knob of the door when his eyes fell onto the thick iron padlock sealing the library shut.

He frowned, lowered his hand. 

Locked. 

And no key in sight. 

Loki huffed out his frustration.

Of course he could go to Dellingr and demand access, though he did not necessarily believe that his chances were very good.  
The current sovereign of the Icen Realm had made it abundantly clear during their first meeting that he did not look favorably upon Loki, and if Loki was honest, he felt the same way. 

On top of that he had been explicitly ordered not to leave his rooms.   
That had of course been before the birth, but Loki was sure that the command still held true.

And he himself was angry about the state of the castle.  
Or rather, of his realm.   
Fuming.

Not the best of times to meet a man who was running the former kingdom of his father in Thor's stead. 

No. 

He was not going to see Dellingr, not today.   
Maybe if Thor did not return in another couple of days he would revisit the idea. 

Loki sighed and turned, ready to return to his rooms. 

He stopped in his tracks when he was faced with an enormous Jötun bearing the linear tattoos of an Alpha Warrior, his head shamefully bare where his horns used to be. 

The Giant was staring down at Loki, red eyes boring into widening ones. 

Loki swallowed hard, tightening his grip around his pup. 

Damn the Norns. 

Thor had told him not to leave his rooms. 

He had told him that there had been an uprising in Jötunheimr, that the Asgardians had been facing sweltering resistance, that the former Alphas had used force to stand up for themselves.   
He looked up, suppressing a shiver.   
The Jötun towering above him was enormous. He could easily hurt Loki with nothing more than the flick of his hand.   
Hurt, or do even worse. 

Loki could feel his pulse pick up, adrenalin streaming through his system. His fingers curled around Fenris, a hot determination to protect his own flaring up inside of him.  
He stood taller, baring his teeth. 

The Giant was motionless, face a stony mask.   
His eyes wandered over the slight former prince, studying his bare chest swollen with milk, the black wolf cub nestled in the crook of his arms. 

Loki did not evade the gaze, his whole body tensing. 

If he was going to be attacked he would be ready.  
There was no way in Hel that he would go down without a fight. 

The two Frost Giants continued to stare at each other, silence building heavily around them, only disturbed by the howling of the storm. 

Then Fenris growled. 

The Giant's eyes snapped down to the babe Loki was pressing to his chest, taking in the little wolf who was barring his teeth at him, snarling dangerously. Loki's fingers tightened around his son, wishing he could hush him, but feeling unable to lower his gaze, to let the Alpha towering above him out of sight.

And then something happened that he had not expected. 

The Giant’s raised his eyebrows at the tiny creature growling at him, and then something like satisfaction spread over his features.

Loki stood frozen, ready to bolt if the Warrior moved, one hand now loosely curled into a fist beside himself, to defend himself if necessary. He tensed when the Giant moved ever so slightly, but the large Alpha only raised his eyes back up, staring into Loki's face. 

And then, impossibly, he offered a small nod. 

Loki swallowed drily, waited for a couple more heartbeats and then slowly started to back off, the eyes of the other following him. He expected to be grabbed, flung against a wall or even worse, but the Giant towering above him stood still like a rock, patiently watching as Loki backed away.

Fenris continued growling in his arms, and Loki slowly raised his hand to stroke him, never turning his eyes away from the enomrous Jötun. He continued walking backwards until he came to a corner, and then moved into the new hallway, out of sight. For a moment Loki stopped, holding his breath, waiting for heavy footsteps to follow him, ready to run for his life if that was the case.

But he heard nothing. 

Nothing at all. 

He turned and hurried away, listening for footsteps that never came. 

When he was down the hallway and turned another corner he started to run. 

He ran as if he was chased by hounds, unable to stop the pictures of horror, of what could have happened creeping into his mind. 

Loki ran all the way back to his father's rooms, slowing just before he knew he reached them.   
Then he stopped and slumped against a freezing cold wall, heaving for breath. 

He realized he was shivering

Fenris wiggled in his grip and Loki pulled his son into a tight embrace, fingers digging into the soft pelt. “You fierce little creature.” He murmured against black fur. “What do you think just happened? Did you scare him enough that he froze with fright? Hmmm?”

The pup let out a low yip and Loki, realizing he had been holding him too tight, eased his grip. He looked down at his son, large blue eyes staring back at him. Then the babe opened his mouth, his pink tongue lolling, seemingly smiling.

Loki smiled back, but it did not reach his eyes. 

His mind was troubled. 

He was convinced that if he had been in the same situation before the birth he would have had to face a beating, if not worse. 

Why had he been spared?

Was it because of the babe in his arms?  
An olden instinct that kept an Alpha from attacking a dam with her child?

No.

That had never stopped any Frost Giant before. The murder of an opponent’s children, though not very common, was also not unheard of. He was the consort to Asgard's king. The whore to the biggest enemy of the Icen Realm.

And yet he had been spared. 

But why?

Loki looked down, staring at his son.

Had the Jötun actually understood the indication of what Fenris birth meant?  
Had he been aware of the tales?

Loki swallowed hard.   
For a moment he had believed he had seen respect in those bright red eyes. 

But that was... impossible.

Wasn't it?

Loki slowly pulled himself off the wall and stood, swaying his son in his arms. The babe stared at him, breathing calmly, as if nothing had occurred.   
As if their lives had never been threatened.

Slowly he walked back to his room, nodding at the soldiers posted outside, almost glad when he could close the door behind himself. 

He sat down, put the little one to his teat, watching him feed. 

He had a lot to think about.


	35. A conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, this chapter marks the end of the second stage of Thor and Loki's relationship.  
> The next chapter should be up in about 2-3 weeks.  
> Thanks to each and everyone who is reading and letting me know that they enjoy this by leaving kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions and especially comments.  
> Love you guys right back!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Loki was reading a book, pages stiff and brittle with the cold, turning each one carefully as his son laid sleeping beside him. He had forgotten how harmful the low temperature of the Icen realm was to the delicate paper of Asgardian books. He turned another page, swearing under his breath when it ripped under his fingers, the low tearing sound loud in the room. 

He was sure that the ice and snow that he had always missed so dearly was mocking him now. 

Loki huffed out a low breath and tried again, carefully prying the sheets apart. It was a laborious and time-consuming effort, and when he saw the tear getting even bigger he realized that he would need more patience than he currently did.  
A lot more.

Carefully he placed the book onto his lap, kneading his fingers. 

His head snapped up to a sharp rap on the door.  
He looked over to Fenris, his son snoring softly, chest rising and falling with the even breath of deep sleep.  
Loki let out a low sigh, then straightened his back. “Come in.”

One of the many nameless Asgardian soldiers stepped into his room, face a carefully constructed mask, though his eyes flicked down to the small wolf for a moment before they focused on Loki. “My Lord. I bring word that the Bifröst has opened. We expect a visitor from Asgard within the next hour or two. Please stay in your rooms in case Lord Thor... in case he has returned.”

Loki rolled his eyes at the tall man who was hiding his dislike towards him more or less successfully. He waved him away. “Of course. Would not want your _king_ having to look for his wayward consort, after all. I will be here.”

The soldier gave a curt nod, mouth curled downward in distaste. “I thank thee, my Lord.” Then he pulled the door closed, leaving Loki alone with his child once more. 

There was a heavy knot of anticipation flaming up in his gut, and Loki swallowed down the thick clump of dread. 

So Thor had come to a conclusion. 

He wondered what it would be.

Loki leaned over to pick up his child, the little one heavy with sleep as he pulled him towards his chest. “Wake up, sweetheart!” The babe was still lodged in a dream, but when Loki rubbed his teat over the woolen snout he let out a low snuffle, licking and finally started suckling. 

Loki held his breath at the sharp sensation, and then his milk started to flow as his babe gulped it down with large, greedy swallows. 

“Let's see what your father has to say about you, shall we?”

He stroked Fenris slowly, anxiety building inside of him, and he closed his eyes to breathe deeply, knowing that he should be calm in the face of whatever was coming for them. 

Whatever Thor had decided, there was nothing he would be able to do about it. 

So he settled and nursed his child, and waited for the Odinson to finally arrive and acknowledge his son. 

Or not. 

They would just have to wait and see. 

x

The wait lasted for the better of three hours.

Loki was getting more anxious with every minute passing, no matter how much he tried to suppress the feeling. 

Once the babe was sated Loki had laid him back down onto the bed, rubbing over the small round belly that was taut as a drum with milk. Fenris watched him with his large, bright blue eyes, and it helped Loki to compose himself, whispering his thoughts and fears into the dark, fluffy fur, unheard by others. He pressed soft kisses against the pelted flesh until the little one fell asleep once more.  
Then he sat up and picked up his book, sighing when he remembered that he would have to first pry apart the pages if he wanted to continue reading. 

He tried for a little while, gave up with a snarl. Then he paced the room, put away some things, picked up another book which pages seemed to be easier to turn. 

It was a storybook from Midgard.  
Loki frowned but sat down, trying to find some peace in the stories woven for children, to teach them between right and wrong. 

But it was to no avail. 

He could not concentrate. 

In the end Loki sat on the bed, head leaned back until his horns touched the icen wall behind him, and he took to simply breathing, in and out, in and out, clearing his mind as well as he was able too. 

Finally he could hear footsteps echoing down the hallway.  
After years of having waited in his rooms, he knew exactly whom this particular tread, loud and too damn sure of itself, belonged to. 

Thor. 

Loki shifted, scooping up his babe, smiling as the little one mewled and stretched before settling down against his dam's cold chest. He pressed a soft kiss against the pup's forehead, fighting against the dark thoughts that were twirling through his mind. 

His heart was racing. 

There was nothing he could do, no matter what happened.  
He had to keep reminding himself of the fact. 

Slowly he rose and faced the door. 

Loki huffed out another breath at the familiar voice outside, then raised his head, straightened his spine. 

The door opened. 

Thor walked in, his sun-bleached hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He was wearing dark green traveling clothes, a thick fur cape thrown over his shoulders. 

He looked tired. 

Dark smudges were under his red, dull eyes, painted there by an obvious lack of sleep. His face was pale, his mouth pulled into a frown. Loki stood taller as the Odinson approached him, forcing a soft smile onto his own features as he rocked his babe in soothing motions. 

Thor stopped on front of him, his eyes darkened with weariness, guilt glazing them to a somber flatness. He gave a quick nod, then his gaze was inadvertently drawn down towards the wolf pup snoring quietly in the cradle of his mothers arms. Loki could see his frown deepening, hands fisting at his sides, and it took a couple of seconds before the Odinson could rip his gaze away once more to look up into burning, red eyes. 

His voice was dark, rough. “Loki. How do you fare?”

Loki's smile did not falter. “I fare well, I thank thee, Thor. How about you?” 

Thor's mouth pulled into what could have been described as a bitter smile. “I am...” He sighed deeply, pushed a hand through his hair, a couple of loose strands falling into his face. “I have had a lot to think about these last couple of days.” 

Loki nodded, shifted the child in his arms. Though Fenris was still small, he was already getting heavy. “I believe you did.”

Thor looked up, smile pained. “I have to apologize to you for leaving so suddenly. But I had not expected.... _him_ ” His eyes flicked down to the wolf pup. “... it... _he_...was a bit of a surprise.” He laughed under his breath, but the sound was brittle, like ice breaking. 

Loki's smile broadened, his fingers running through the babe's silky fur with obvious tenderness. His heart was hammering away. “Yes. That he was. Though in my case, I have to admit, not an unwelcome one.” 

Thor nodded somberly. “Yes. I am sure.”

Loki laid his head to the side. He could not suppress the mischief, no matter how nervous he was. “Would you like to hold him?”

Thor swallowed, his body moving away minutely as if threatened with bodily harm. “No...I thank thee. That's...that's not what I have come here to do.”

Loki's eyes narrowed. “He is your son, Thor. He is of your flesh and blood, whether you like it or not. And he is not going to bite” His smile sparkled, reflecting the fire of the torches around them. “He does not yet have teeth, after all.”

Thor stared down at the wolf, his gaze a mixture of reluctance and interest. “So is he... is he fully beast? Will he shift when he is older?”

Loki 's mouth tightened at the choice of words.  
Beast?  
He smiled sweetly, though his voice was cool. “No. I do not believe that he will. He is a wolf, no more, no less. And he is your son, Thor. There is no escaping that truth.”

Thor's shoulders slumped for a moment, and he closed his eyes, breathing heavily as if in pain. “Of course. I understand.” He swallowed once more. “Would you do me the favor and put him down? Just for a moment. Please.”

Loki continued stroking the sleeping babe calmly. “Whatever you need to say, I am sure you can do it facing him as well. You are a mighty Warrior, after all. Or does your own son scare you so?”

Thor straightened, his face now lacking emotions. “Please, Loki. There is something that I can not do with him in your arms.”

Loki hesitated for a moment, then he slowly turned and bent over the large bed, placing the sleeping infant into the middle of the white furs, far enough so he could not roll off and hurt himself. Then he calmly straightened and turned back, facing the Odinson once more.

Apprehension was gnawing in his stomach with sharp little teeth. 

Loki looked up, gaze meeting Thor's, who, if possible, seemed even wearier than before.

Then the Odinson raised his hands and placed them upon his consort's collar. 

Loki ripped his eyes wide open in surprise. 

“Loki...” Thor's voice was dark and grave. “Loki Laufeyson of Jötunheimr, former prince of the Icen Realm, I, Thor Odinson, king-in-waiting to Asgard hereby release you...” Loki sucked in a sharp breath. “...from servitude into freedom.” 

Loki could feel the tepid metal shift under Thor's warm fingers, the ancient magical mechanism that had been locked and held in place by the mere power of words opening. Loki heaved a breath as the metal slid over his cool skin like a strange being forged out of steel. He raised his eyes to stare at blue eyes in disbelief, only reading determination and quiet despair in their watery depths. 

Then Thor lifted the collar from his neck and took a step back. 

For a single heartbeat nothing happened. 

The very next moment Loki let out a gasp as he could feel his seiðr moving inside him, fragments twirling like shard'ed glass, broken by having been so forcefully separated from his inner core. The pieces twisted as they rolled towards him in a wave of energy that crashed into his body and mind, his magic hungry and ferocious as it tried to forcefully integrate itself back into the mesh of his being.

Loki started to heave, screams bubbling up from deep inside of him. 

The sharp tendrils of his own destroyed power painfully drilled itself though his flesh, winding through him like hot metal piercing his inner core as it reclaimed the space it had been separated from for so long. His knees buckled and he sunk to the floor, digging his nails into his palms, trying to distract himself from the unrelenting maelstrom of anguish that seemed to want to devour him. 

Frigga had been right, Loki thought numbly.

This _hurt._

He endured his seiðr knitting itself back together, it lashing out like a crazed animal scratching and clawing at his insides, lighting his nerves on fire. His throat closed up, silencing his hoarse screams, and he could do nothing but curl into himself as two things that should have never been separated were combined once more. 

And then all the pieces slid back into place aligning themselves and filling the barren space within his core that had so brutally emptied so many years ago.

Then it was over. 

Loki heaved a breath as he lay unmoving, waiting for the pain to subside. 

His whole body was drumming with sensation, his muscles on fire.  
He blinked his eyes open, lashes wet with tears. 

Thor was kneeling beside him. 

Loki realized that the Odinson was talking to him, his words only reaching him through a thick fog that dampened all sensations. “Loki? Loki? Say something, I beg you! Are you all right?” 

Loki opened his mouth, felt a thin trail of spit roll down his cheeks. He tried to form words, could not, closed his mouth again. 

His body seemed to be vibrating.  
He could feel his blood sloshing through his veins, thick and viscous.  
His nerves were firing at random, his skin prickling as the air shifted around him with Thor's movements. 

Loki took a deep, shuttering breath. 

The cool air burned in his lungs as they expanded, raising his chest.  
He could _feel_ the broken magic of his realm, flowing into him, surrounding him.

It was all so...overwhelming. 

Loki exhaled sharply, tried to control the wave of panic that gripped him tightly. 

Too many _sensations._

Thor was still hovering over him, his hands floating over Loki's body, daring not to touch. “Loki! Please! Speak to me! Are you all right?”

Loki blinked, coughed. “I'm...” He was hoarse. It was disconcerting that he could see the color of emotion in his words, another dimension of senses he had forgotten that he had been lacking. No wonder his life in Asgard had seemed so lifeless, so dull. He coughed again. “You could have ... warned me.” 

He looked up, could see Thor's energy pulsate around him, a gray, ugly thing, streaked with misery and sadness. 

He rubbed his eyes, opened them again. 

Thor was still staring down at him. “Thank the Norns.” He took a deep breath, his smile tired. “I am glad you are well. My apologies. You are right, of course. I should have let you know.” He laughed, a hollow, haunted sound. “I am never going to be done apologizing to you, will I?”

Loki felt his seiðr stirring inside of him, restless, prickling under his fingertips like a caged animal trying to free itself. He shook his head absentmindedly as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “Probably not.”

A wave of dizziness engulfed him as his equilibrium slotted itself back in place. He let a wave of nausea wash over him, suppressed a hysteric giggle at the idea of throwing up all over Thor's shiny boots. 

Then the feeling of vertigo passed.

Loki waited for a couple of breaths before he slowly, carefully, got to his knees and finally stood.  
His knees were shaking and it took a moment for them to lock, hold his weight. Thor had risen as well, watching him closely, ready to steady him if necessary, though he clearly was not going to touch him otherwise. 

A feeling of unease bubbled up inside of Loki, burning under his skin.  
He tried to suppress it, then realized he could not. 

He heaved a deep breath, could feel nausea compressing his stomach. “I need to...” He shivered and took a step back, turning to the side, lifting his arms.  
His seiðr was bucking and snarling under his skin like an untamed pony, and it wanted _out_ , needed to be released after being imprisoned for so long. Loki closed his eyes and concentrated, allowed the untamed energy to flow through him, guiding it towards his fingertips where he set it free, flames springing from his flesh. His body still ached from the transition, but the ease with which he could call for his magic, how the flames burned brighter and swelled higher with nothing more than a though made him smile with satisfaction. Loki blinked his eyes open, watched mesmerized as the flames flickered and sputtered with the movement of his fingers. 

He looked up to see a mixture of worry and apprehension darken Thor's features, his body tensing as he watched his consort's hands burn brightly with the magical flames. 

Loki rolled his eyes when he noted Thor's hand falling to the hilt of his sword, body shifting into a defensive position. “Oh, stop it. I am not going to light you on the fire.” He met Thor's gaze, mischief glittering deep inside his bright red eyes. “At least not right now.”

Thor's tension eased, if only a little. His eyes were still focused on Loki's hands, as they twisted and turned, the color of the flare changing. “I hope neither will you anybody else.”

Loki let out a low laugh. He felt like he had drunk a cup or two of strong ale, pleasantly buzzed, lightheaded and ever so slightly dizzy. He stared at the flames hungrily for another moment then snapped his fingers shut, extinguishing them. 

He was tired, drained, but immensely satisfied. 

He felt powerful. 

Complete. 

More like himself than he had in... well, since before the war. 

He raised his eyes to Thor.  
The ridiculous notion of gratitude washed through him and words of thanks were on the tip of his tongue, eager to spill. 

He shook his head at the thought.  
No.  
He was not going to thank Thor for returning what he had stolen from him with so much force.

Loki took a deep, calming breath, looking over at his son to ensure that the little wolf was still sleeping peacefully. Then he turned back to Thor, raising his chin. His fingers rose to his neck and laid upon the naked skin there, roughened from the constant weight of the collar, strange in its nakedness. He cleared his throat. “I can see that you have been thinking.”

Thor nodded, his eyes dark with guilt. “Yes. I have. And I need to apologize to you.” He sighed deeply. “I truly believed that what I had done was for the best, for you and me, the best solution for both of our realms. But clearly...” his eyes flicked over to his sleeping son. “...that was not the case.”

Loki shook his head, fingers still rubbing over his exposed flesh. His voice was soft and composed. “Really? You had thought that keeping me as your own personal thrall, a glorified pet to take your pleasure from whenever you pleased was the best for both of our realms?” 

Thor opened his mouth, shaking his head in denial. “No, I...”

Loki raised one of his hands, silencing the Odinson successfully. “Stop. We have had this discussion too many times. But, as far as I know, neither thinking nor listening has ever been your strong point. That, I believe, would be beating people to death. You excel at that.” 

Thor had gone pale, and his face looked more drawn even than before. “Well, however that may be, I am here to apologize. I know I can not take back the things I have done to you, but I believe me when I say that I am truly sorry.” He took a step back, his eyes wandering over Loki's body, a strange sort of hunger shining within them. “I wanted to tell you that I hereby release you of the position of royal consort. You are free to do as you please.” 

Loki's eyes had narrowed with the words, and he closed his mouth, swallowed dryly.  
There was a pain in chest that radiated through him, heated and chilling at the same time.

So long. He had waited for so long. 

Finally...

Thor's eyes flicked around the room but did not focus on the Jötun opposite of him, as if he could not say what he needed if he acknowledged Loki standing there. “You are free to stay in these room if you so wish. Or any other that are not yet occupied.” Thor shifted, staring down at his feet. His voice was even softer, low enough that Loki had to lean in to hear the words. “You can, of course also return to Asgard. You could move back into your chambers there, or if you preferred I could get you new rooms or a small house a little outside of the capital...”

Loki finally found his voice. It sounded rough. “Why, in all the realms, would I want to go back there? This here is my home.”

Thor's voice was low. He had finally raised his eyes, staring straight at Loki, his hands open in a non-threatening gesture. “We could start anew. You and me and... the child...”

Loki stared at him, and he could feel his heart hardening inside his chest. “No. I am not coming back to Asgard with you. Not unless you force me.”

Thor closed his eyes, opened them again. He looked tired. “I am not going to... make you. Never again.”

Loki nodded, his heart beating too fast. “Then I am going to stay here.”

Thor was silent for a long moment. His shoulders had slumped, he looked like he had aged hundreds of years. “We should speak to Dellingr then. Tell him that you wish to stay.”

Loki shifted. “I guess we better do that.”

He slowly turned and leaned forward to pick up the pup, hushing him when he mewled in discomfort of being woken. Fenris settled quickly once pressed against the cold chest of his dam, soothed by his loud, steady heartbeat. 

Loki stared down at him for a long moment. He could feel the energy of the little wolf, how it resembled his and yet not, dark and purple, filled with ancient energy that only wild beings truly bore in themselves.

He realized that Thor was waiting for him and he raised his head and gave a silent nod.  
They left the room without another word, side by side, to go to discuss Loki's future. 

x

 

Thor left later that same afternoon. 

When he was gone Loki realized he had not even told him the name of his son.

 

x

 

Thor was making his ways towards the stables. He took the reigns of his steed with nothing more than a curt nod to the soldier who handed them to him, and then, without another word, he swung himself into the saddle.

His stomach was a hard, heavy knot of anger and grief, and he kicked his horse hard, forcing it into a light canter straight away. 

He raced through the opening of the broken city walls, pressing his steed to go faster and faster, unshed tears burning in his eyes as he grit his teeth against the piercing pain in his heart. 

Loki.

Loki was gone.

He had left him.

Thor had given him a choice, and he had chosen to leave.

Thor snarled against the howling wind, felt his fingers itch for Mjølner , wishing to take her and shatter her against the skulls of his enemies. He wished he could slaughter and kill until the bloodlust killed his own pain and drowned his feelings in his righteous fury. 

Frigga had warned him. 

She had said in the beginning that Loki could not be tamed, that Thor was on the wrong path, but he had not listened, no, he had believed he was doing the right thing, and now Loki was gone...

Thor let out a roar, and his horse started and ran even faster, hooves flying over the dark snow. 

He was alone.

He was alone and it was his own fault. 

Thor bit his lip until he felt hot blood bubble in his mouth, relishing in the sharp pain distracting him from the pain in his soul.

He had to go and kill something. 

Now. 

And then the Bifröst opened and Thor was gone, leaving nothing but hoof prints in the twirling snow, already fading in the raging storm.


	36. A place in Jötunheimr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. I am sorry for the delays, working a full time job and writing is ridiculous and does not seem possible.   
> I get some writing done - in a notebook while on buses and trains- but am usually too knackered to type it out in the evening. So my plan is to by a small laptop so I can type while traveling to work.   
> One that arrives I hope the update will be a little faster again. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are love and super much appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Time passed.

Loki and his son settled in Jötunheimr.

Only a few days after Thor had removed his former consort’s seiðr-suppressing collar a horse-pulled carriage arrived in front of the castle, stacked high with heavy wooden chests and boxes.

It turned out they belonged to Loki.  
All of them. 

Dellingr’s eyes were spraying with displeasure as he watched three men carry the items up into Laufey's former rooms.

Loki ignored him.  
He had noticed the administrator’s obvious animosity towards him during his short stay, but he was not going to indulge it now.

No.  
This was far too intriguing.

Instead he followed the men up up to his rooms, burning with curiosity. He waited impatiently as the last box was stacked against the wall, then closed the door to his chambers, shutting out unwanted eyes.  
Loki turned and stared at the pile of chests scattered through his rooms. He let his fingers run over the roughened wood of the trunk closest to him, then went to his knees in front of it, unhooked the latch and carefully opened it.

He blinked at the content, brow furrowing.

The trunk was filled with books.

Loki hesitated only for a moment, then he reached inside and let his fingers caress the soft leather before he pulled the heavy book out. He read the title, smoothing over the golden letters embossed in the envelope before he slid it back in place.  
He pulled out another, looked at it, put it back into the box.  
And a third, just to be sure.

Then Loki straightened.

These were his own books.  
The books he had collected in Asgard.

He raised his eyes, stared at the mass of remaining chests and trunks, all placed against the wall, stacked high.

Loki stood and opened the next box.

And the next.  
And the next after that.

Books. Furniture. Clothes. Cushions. Trinkets. Wall hangings. Jewelry. More clothes. More books. More furniture. Towels. Toiletries.  
Everything was familiar, everything he had been surrounded by day in and day out when he lived in Asgard. Loki realized that Thor must have stripped his old rooms bare and send him everything, from the wall hangings depicting his home to the low coffee table, from the pillows on the bed to the towels from the bathroom.

Few things were missing, notably the large furniture, the bed, the sofa, the closet.  
And the game Mār.  
Thor must have kept that for himself.  
Maybe he could not stand the thought of Loki playing it with someone other than him.

Loki sat until well past dinner time to go through the chests, one after another, taking a break only to nurse his mewling child before he sat back down to continue his exploration.

A couple of things he found that he had never seen before, an old spell-book that was written in black and gold lettering, precious with age. There was a creamy-white fur coat that meant to protect against the onslaught of winter storms, heavily embroidered with stylized wolves curling along the borders.

But everything else he felt he could account for.

When he was done Loki looked around, surrounded by his old life.  
Thor had gotten rid of almost everything that would remind him of Loki, as if he had to cleanse his vicinity of all reminders of his former consort. 

And, for reasons Loki could not fathom, that idea clutched at his heart painfully.

x

Time passed.

Months went by.

First one, then another.  
And another.

Loki spent his time watching Fenris grow and blossom. He was there when his son took his first, wobbling steps, played and coddled him, soothed him when his teeth started to emerge. Fenris turned out to be a bright little wolf, highly attentive, playful and brimming with intelligence.  
He was a joy to be around.

Loki also took the time to reacquaint himself with his seiðr

And oh, how glorious it was, the freedom to have access to it once more.

He felt like a drowning man finally allowed to breathe, like a starving man allowed to eat.

He was aware of the magic surrounding him every second of every day; he was living, feeling and breathing it. He would murmur spells under his breath even as he nursed and soothed his babe, weaving the sounds of magic into his everyday life.  
His seiðr was a hungry, restless entity inside of him, and using it filled him with unlimited satisfaction.

However Loki realized once more that Jötunheimr's magic was a broken and destroyed thing, what must have once been a healthy net spanning the Icen fields shredded and floating in bits and pieces all around him. It pained him to feel his realms energy so destroyed, for where it had once grated Loki to use Asgard's energy for all its foreignness, his own realm made him feel... almost unwell.  
Empty.  
Hollow, even.

It was like using a shattered cup to drink from a soiled well.

So Loki started drawing his powers from the much older magic of the universe, selecting to rather supplement his seiðr with the energy that infused and spanned the entirety of space and time. White it was hard work to access this kind of magic as he had to reach for it with his whole being, the source was inexhaustible and unfailing, ancient as the stars themselves. The universe was gracious and shared its powers with him, all he needed to learn was how to pull at it, how to open himself to the infinity of space without losing himself in its vastness.

But time passed and Loki learned.

As the months went by Loki recalled all the spells he had once been able to master, from casting fire, cloaking himself in invisibility and opening doors with nothing more than a flick of his hand. He once more managed to move first small then larger objects, conjured projections and illuminated his own paths when he walked the darkened hallways. Soon enough he was handling his magic with nothing more than a swift thought, the action easy as breathing once more.

x

The Jötnar left Loki in peace.

When he crossed their path he could read a wide array of emotions on their faces, from quiet reluctance, cautious respect, but also contempt and even hatred, especially when they saw fire dancing from his fingers. Then their eyes would darken with fury and disgust and, maybe, a tiny bit of fear. 

Though how much of that was wishful thinking from his own side Loki could not say.

Others, however, showed him weary respect with hardly recognizable nods when they saw him, their eyes usually glued to the little wolf in his arms or by his feet. And while it did not make him relax whenever he met one of the Giants in the hallways, it did seem to herald his new standing within the realm.

Though what that might be he could not fathom.

x

Time continued to pass, like sand running through an hourglass, steady and unstoppable.

Roughly thirteen months after Fenris birth Thor visited the Icen Realm.

Loki was sitting in his chambers that morning, about to break fast when a soldier knocked. The door was opened and he was informed that Lord Thor was expected within the hour. Loki swallowed his annoyance that he had not been informed about the visit in advance and nodded his understanding. He slowly ate his bland gruel, a strange feeling he could not decipher knotting his stomach into a tight ball. When he was done he scooped up his struggling son and made his way down to the library.

There he waited, more or less patiently.

He passed his time playing with Fenris, rolling a red leather ball across the floor for him to chase, watching as the pup padded after it, chewing on it with his new teeth. They both raised their heads at the loud knock on the door, and, slowly, Loki stood. He hushed his son who had started growling then raised his head. “Come in.”

Thor opened the door and stepped into the room.

The cold had tinted his otherwise golden skin a light red, snowflakes clinging to his hair and cape-covered shoulders. Loki noted two new scars drawn on his face, one running from his left eyebrow to his hair line, the other digging a small coma into his cheek. Both had faded into silvery white lines and would be gone within another couple of months. The Odinson's hair was windswept, the color of dark, rich honey, golden in the lights of the torches and streaked with strands of white that had been bleached by a burning sun.

The first through that crossed Loki's mind was that he looked... _well._  
Handsome, even.  
He swallowed, ignoring the hot flame that had lit up in the base of his spine.

Thor's eyes were shining bright blue as they fell upon Loki, and he gave a small nod. “Loki. How do you fare?”

Loki returned the nod, straightening. He felt awkward, inhibited somehow. He pushed the feeling away. “I am well, I thank thee. How about you?”

Thor offered a small smile. It seemed tired. “Well, thank you.”

There was a moment of silence, disturbed by a low yip from the pup between their feet.

Both pairs of eyes, one blue and one crimson, were drawn downwards.

Thor's face softened when he noted the small wolf. He slowly went down to his knees in front of him, staring down at the little one ripping at his toy with low snarls. His voice was gentle.“I can see our son is growing rather well.” He reached out tentatively, hesitated for a moment before he ran his fingers through the baby's thick pelt.

The little wolf flinched at the unexpected caress and turned, growling menacingly before he dug his small teeth into his father's hand.

“Ow...” Thor's brow furrowed, staring down at the snarling pup who was slowly backing away, fur standing on his back. He looked down at his fingers which were sluggishly bleeding from several small puncture wounds. “He bit me.”  
He sounded surprised.

Loki frowned, leaning down to caress the small wolf who had pressed himself against his legs, staring up at his father with narrowed eyes. “You scared him.”

Thor opened his mouth at the reprimand, and then closed it again. Slowly he stood, his eyes still glued to the little one snarling at him. “Aye. I guess I must have.” He contemplated the thought for a moment, a small smile quirking his lips. “It is good to see that he has inherited your temperament and ability to stand up for himself.”

Loki straightened. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, raised a single eyebrow. “Oh aye. And from you he got the passion to maim and kill anything that crosses his path and is not quick enough to run away. Bite first, ask questions later. Sound familiar, yes?”

Thor laughed quietly, and they both stood and watched as their son who had toddled behind his mother's legs, far away from the tall, blonde giant towering above him.

There was a moment of silence and then Thor cleared his throat. “So... does he have a name yet?”

Loki looked at him with slight disapproval. “Of course. Did you think I would wait for you to come back and name him?”

Thor's smile vanished. He looked tired once more. “No, I just...”

Loki sighed. “Fenris. His name is Fenris.”

Thor eyed the small, black bundle that was now attacking shadows on the wall, snarling ferociously. “Fenris...” He said the word slowly, as if savoring its texture on his tongue. Then he looked back up, face serious. “It's a good name.”

Loki relaxed. “I know. I chose it.”

Thor grinned crookedly. Then he looked around, studying his surroundings, the empty walls of the war room, and the nearly empty book shelves of the library. “I trust that you received all your things?”

Loki nodded. “Yes, I did.”

The Odinson ran his fingers through his hair. “Good. That's good.” He looked up at Loki. “Are you still in the same rooms?”

Loki's eyes narrowed and leaned back slightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Now why would you want to know that?”

Thor shrugged. “I am just making conversation, Loki. No harm intended.”

“Mmmm...” Loki hummed under his breath. “Yes. They are large, they are furnished, all the windows are intact. That's really as good as it gets in this place. So we stayed.”

Thor nodded. “Ok, that is good. Ok.”

There was another long silence and Thor shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. “So I am staying for another couple of hours and I won’t be back for at least another year. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

Loki smiled sweetly. He looked down at his son, and then raised his eyes once more, the reds of them glittering like rare gems. “Yes. Actually there is...” Thor waited patiently for him to continue speaking. “A long while ago, you promised me a place in this court once I had born your first child. And I have. So I would hold you to your word now.”

Thor opened his mouth, took a sharp breath, then closed it again. Loki could see his jaw working, and it took the Odinson several long seconds before he answered. “I did say that, didn't I?”

Loki continued to smile.

Thor cleared his throat, fingers carding through his hair once more. “I will have to speak to Dellingr.”

Loki nodded. “You do that.”

 

x

One week later Loki was sitting in Laufey's former war room, working his way through the sparse collection of the small library.

Small was actually an understatement.  
Truth to be told, there was not much of _anything_.

The library was placed in a far corner of the room and it consisted of two crooked shelves that were stacked with layers and layers of loose papers, a few tattered books whose spines had cracked either through the cold or neglect and a couple of scrolls that crumbled under his fingers once he opened them.

Loki was sitting at a desk by the window, staring down at the pile of papers spread out in front of him. They were in no apparent order, neither by subject nor age and many of them were hardly decipherable, 

He snarled, rubbed his forehead.

Not for the first time he cursed himself for asking Thor to give him something to do during the long hours of the day. For of all the things Thor could have chosen he had given to Loki a task that had made him bristle. 

Food distribution.

 _Food distribution_.

Loki curled his fingers into a fist, pressed his nails into his palm then released them again.

One week ago Thor had called for a meeting with him and Dellingr, sat both of them down in the throne room before he laid down his plans for Loki's new position. He had looked at his former consort without a smile, and declared that Loki would be in charge of coordination of feeding his people.  
It took Loki a long moment for the words to sink in.  
He remembered how his whole body had stiffened and his face flushed, slighted by the notion that an Ergi like himself would be best of looking after crops and farms, as if his soft hands and slow mind was worthy of little else. He had taken a deep breath and was just about to open his mouth to argue the point when Dellingr, sitting opposite of him, spoke out, his voice dark with hardly concealed disgust. “He can't take on the distribution. He is not qualified.” He had thrown a glance filled with hatred towards Loki, gritting his teeth. “And he's a damned Jotun! He might even sabotage what little there is.”

Loki snapped his mouth shut at the outburst, eyes narrowed. It was not a job he had ever wanted or even considered, but when he heard how hard the blond administrator fought for him NOT to get the position...well.  
It straightened out his ruffled feathers, if only a little bit.

Thor, in turn, had stayed calm. “Dellingr, this is not meant to offend you or your work. But I know that this is something that needs to be managed, and soon. The amount of grain we are sending from Asgard is getting out of hand. I want this realm to support itself, if possible. And what better person to take that on than a Jötun who knows this place, these people?”

Dellingr turned an alarming shade of red, voice carefully controlled. “And you think he can do it, just because he knows how to talk pretty and has shared your bed for a couple of years? We are working on the issues, but we need more time, some of the farms...”

Thor had leaned forward, voice low yet authoritative. “Dellingr, you are out of bounds. Loki has a sharp mind and is known to be exceptional at problem-solving. I have all the confidence that he be able to manage this task. This is not up for discussion.” He looked at both of them. “Loki will have free reign in the area for five years, and I expect you to help him in any way that is needed. If he fails he will be removed from all responsibility of the court.”

Dellingr's flush had deepened. “That damn Jotun is not going anywhere near...”

Thor smashed his hand onto the table, his voice now booming. “This is not up for discussion.” He glowered at them. “I am your king. You will obey. Both of you.”

And that had been that.

Just a few days later Dellingr had passed Loki a thin folder of accounts with visible reluctance, eyes hard like polished marbles, glazed with hardly suppressed anger. Apparently the administrator did not like to give up control, even if it was in something as menial as food distribution.

Loki had taken the record without a word, glowered back and then withdrew into the library.

And that was where he was now.  
Working his way through the books and folders, turning page after page.  
It took him less than a day to realize that the system was an utter mess, lacking on all ends.  
Calling it a system at all was a hard stretch.

And no matter how many accounts Loki went through, how many sheets he turned and calculations he slotted down, the outcome was always the same.

There was not enough food.  
Not even close.

Jötunheimr's own natural resources were currently hardly able to feed half the population! According to the accounts Asgard had to bring in cheap grain on a biweekly basis to supplement the meager resources the Icen realm had, just to keep the worst hunger at bay.

And starvation rampaged throughout the realm without mercy, claiming victims each week.

Loki groaned, massaged the root of his nose.

Útgarðar currently held around seven hundred Jötnar, most of them forced to hard labor for alleged war crimes against the Asgardians. Almost all of them were former Alphas, their horns removed, castrated of their standing and their pride.

The rest of the population was scattered along the Icen plains, many of the Frost Giants living in small villages – farmers and yak herders, fishermen along the Icen seas, miners in the Dark Mountains. All of them had to bring in half of their crops, catch or yield to the capital where it was distributed to the rest of the population. And of course Asgard took a share.  
But there was so little of everything that the farmers and fishermen could hardly provide for themselves, let alone split their meager income with the kingdom.

And, on top of that, there was an unknown number of rogue Alphas who had escaped their punishment after the war, wandering aimlessly along the Icen plains, stealing and even murdering others for food.

Loki lifted his head and stared out the window, following the dance of the snowflakes as they were whipped around in the never-ending storm, some sticking to the cold glass, others disappearing into the twilight.

Of course hunger and starvation was nothing new, not in the Icen realm.  
Not since the thousand year war, not since the winds had been released from the Casket of Eternal Winters.

Memories of his early childhood flooded his mind, weeks spent fighting the gnawing pain of hunger in his belly, days in which he felt too weak to move. He remembered sitting by a window, staring into the bleak whiteness, hoping to see some of the Warriors returning from the hunt and hauling along slaughtered beasts. And, most of all he remembered when they returned empty-handed, how his hopes had been crushed again and again, how he would cry and finally go numb, knowing that dying of hunger was a real possibility.

He had heard the tales that Jötunheimr once used to be a fertile realm, rich with natural resources on the lands and in the seas.  
It's treasures, so it was told, were enough to allow the Frost Giants to live in what would now be called luxury, farmers reaping all kinds of crops, from grains to fruit and fungi. Cattle and yaks roamed the plains in large herds and clothing was made from fine pelts and Icen hemp. Trades with other realms used to be a common occurrence, Jötunheim's furs, ivory and winter gold sought after as a pricey commodity and allowed the import ice-resistant silks, wood and paper.

But ever since the Casket of Eternal Winters, the heart and soul of the Icen realm had been ripped from its depths, opened and the storms freed, famine and poverty had haunted the desolate lands.

Loki understood now that the fractured magic he could feel all around him played an important role in sustaining the desolation. The broken energy he could feel under his fingertips would not be able to sustain plants to flourish, and if something managed to grow, against all odds, it was likely to be ripped from its roots by the raging winds.  
Animals would not breed any more and the waves in the seas were whipped to a frenzy, promising a watery grave to anyone who dared to face them.

Battling gods was one thing.  
But in Jötunheimr nature itself was angry, furious even.

And now Loki was sitting in an empty library trying to figure out how he was supposed to feed his people.

What in all the worlds had he gotten himself into?

 

x

Loki sat for a couple more hours until he realized that pondering over papers did not help him solve the problems he faced. So he tugged Fenris under his arm and decided to head out to talk to his people and visit the granaries. He needed to see and hear what was really going on. 

He reminded himself that during Laufey-kings reign Útgarðar's halls had held more than five thousand Alphas, and while food had been sparse most of the Warriors had, somehow, been fed.  
Now there were less than seven hundred Giants, and still grain had to be brought in.

What in all the realms had his father done differently?

His first stop was at the largest of the granaries located within the city walls, its entrance in close proximity to the training ground. He nodded at the few soldiers he passed, though most simply stared at him in return, watching him walk by without a comment. Still, he could feel their eyes burning into his back.

He had one of the guards unlock the large, double-breasted door of the round stone building for him and watched as he pushed it open. He stepped into a large, dark room that was, on the first glance, startlingly empty. He turned slowly, noting a few racks that were hung with dried fish, half a yak carcass as well as a small pile of sacks of grain.

There was nothing else.

Loki swallowed.

So little.

He left soon after and went to the next of the storage spaces, just to realize that it did not hold any food at all. 

Neither did the one after that. 

Loki realized he really had to talk to his people. 

He knew a delivery was expected from the Eastern villages the very next day, and he made sure to be outside early in the morning, watching the horizon. He waited patiently, watching Fenris toddle through the snow, chasing snowflakes when a cart loaded with a couple of sacks of grain drawn by a hunched over, heavily scared Giant arrived. Loki picked up his son and stepped up to the Jötun who slowed before he came to a halt.  
The former Alpha raised his horn-less head, his dull, red eyes slowly wandering over Loki's slight body. He stopped his inspection when his gaze reached Fenris, staring at the little wolf, then he raised his eyes until they stared into the sparkling reds of Loki.

Loki offered a nod and a smile. “Greetings, my friend. I was hoping I could ask you some questions.”

The eyes of the Giant narrowed and he seemed to think, his mouth working in slow, circular motions as if he was chewing on gristle or bone. When he finally spoke his voice was a low rasp, as if he had not used it for a long while. “You are the traitor.”

Loki huffed out a breath. “You, my friend, are ill informed. I am Loki, of the house of Laufey. I am the new overseer of agriculture and distribution.” He waited for a moment to see if the title made any sort of impact, but the Giant did not reply, just stared at him in silence.

Loki raised his chin, holding Fenris tight, his son having started to struggle in the confines of his mother’s arms. “In my new position I am to manage the food and its distribution among the people. I have noted that there is very little food. Possibly even less than before the war. Do you know if this is true?”

The Giant continued to stare at him with watery eyes. It took him a long time to answer, and when he did it was a single word. “Yes.”

Loki sighed inwardly.  
This could take some time.  
He continued to focus on the Giant, finally having a good grip on Fenris who was whining low in his throat. “Why? I want to know what has changed since Laufey is gone. Why is there less food?” He waited another long moment, staring up into the others eyes, wondering if he would be able to get any feedback at all. “Do you know?”

The Giant did not move, did not answer for a whole minute. His jaws continued to grind, and then, suddenly, they stopped. “Yes.”

Loki grit his teeth, fighting the instinct to clench his fingers into Fenris curls. “Would you tell me, friend?”

The Giant seemed to consider. Finally he shifted, his massive body swaying from one side to the other, then stopping once more. “All dead.”

Loki blinked. That was not the answer he had expected. “What? Who is dead?”

The Giant shrugged, a slow, pained motion. “Farmers. Ergis. Most dead. During war. After war. Died. Killed. Now no one knows how to... Plants die. No one there. All dead.”

Loki swallowed, his mind was racing. Could it be that simple? The ones that used to farm the field or go out to fish, they had died? That there were simply not enough left to farm the lands? All of them victims of another mindless war?  
He swallowed. “They were all killed? But who is now working in the fields?”

The Giants looked up into the sky, then focused back on the Mage in front of him. “The ones who survived. But they don't know. No ones knows. So nothing grows.” Slowly, painfully the Giant bent down and picked up the holders of the cart. He huffed out a breath as he hauled it forward, continued moving.

Apparently they were done talking.

Loki stepped aside, watched as the bent Giant walked towards the granaries to deliver his load.

His mind was racing.

All farmers dead?

Impossible. 

Loki stared at the little wolf in his arms who had snuggled against his cool skin, breath slow and steady.

He had to talk to others. 

x

Apparently the old former Alpha had been right.  
For no matter whom Loki spoke to, he always got the same answers.

Well, that was if he got an answer at all.

Some of the Jötnar he approached spat at him, others ignored him.  
Few said more words than the old Giant hauling the cart.

But the ones that did speak, they all agreed: The farmers, the fishermen, the ones that once knew how to plow the fields or breed the animals, they were gone. And the ones that had taken their place...well they had never been trained, stood against the force of nature.  
And they were loosing.

Loki slowly walked back to the library.

There he tried to feed Fenris some of the mush he had received for dinner, fully understanding when the little wolf wanted nothing to do with it. Loki sighed. He would have to see if he could get meat for his son. The little one had started to chew his nipples bloody, and, on top of that, he felt his milk drying up, his breasts shrinking back into the flat chest he used to know.

Loki sat well into the evening, staring out the window.  
He wondered how many mothers could not feed their children tonight, how many were crying in hunger, how many were starving. 

It killed his sleep that night and for many nights to come. 

x

Loki spend the coming days mulling over the problems he had faced, carrying together more information, once more trying to find wisdom in books.

And he started working on a plan.

He understood that there was little sense in changing the way the little food that actually arrived in the capital was distributed. For all the things to be said about Dellingr, the current system seemed to work well enough with what little it had.

His calculations confirmed that the food that was coming in was shared more or less equally, and the grain that was brought in from Asgard was generous, at least enough so no one _should_ go hungry. Of course there was the problem with the villages outside the capital, the many houses that must have been forgotten and where hunger still roamed freely. But, and this part hurt, he could not be sure how many Jötunar lived beyond the Icen plains, for there was no headcount, no figures he could fall back upon. He knew it was something he would have to look into in the future, but for now...he had to work with what he had. 

It was much more important to Loki to set up a plan on how to produce more crops and harvest more produce so they would not to have to beg Asgard for scraps in the future.

And he felt like he might just have the answer to that problem.

Ice houses.

It was really rather simple.  
Loki could not believe it had taken him this long to come up with the solution.

Crops did not grow because the winds flattened the plants to the ground or ripped them from the soil with sheer force before they could grow to full height.

So Loki would help shelter them.  
Remove them from the destructive influences of the storms.  
Offer them light.  
Water them when they needed it.

Maybe he could even teach his knowledge to some of those farmers that remained.

He knew how to grow plants in ice from his training in Asgard, after all.

Loki leaned back in his chair, staring down onto the chaos on his desk.  
A small flame of excitement lit up in his stomach, flushed through his arms, down into his legs.  
He could do this.  
He could get his people fed.

All he needed now was workers to build the ice houses.  
Farmers.  
Seeds.

Loki huffed out a breath.

He had to speak to Dellingr.


	37. Ice house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! First of all, thanks to all of you who are still reading, who are leaving kudos and subscribe and even take the time to comment! It means so much to me and really keeps me going. Just a couple of chapters left and it is sometimes hard to motivate myself...but you guys really help.  
> Also thousands of thanks to my beta uluka who decided to help me out more than a year ago and still takes the time to check my writing for typos and horrific errors! THANK YOU!  
> Also - I have a new computer! So if you happen to be in Berlin and see a lady crazily hacking away on a tiny little laptop on the tram - that would be me! Yay!  
> Anyway, have another world-building chapter, and then we are back to Thor/Loki in the next chapter, I promise (almost)!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> x

The very night that Loki decided he wanted to build an ice house he sat down to write a letter.

Dellingr had turned down his request for manpower.  
That had not come as a surprise.  
Not really.

The administrator had sneered at Loki when he voiced his request, and then had leaned back in his chair, looking smug. He grinned as he spoke, voice oily. “An ice house? What a... novel idea. Too bad I have no workers to spare.” He let his words sink in for a moment before he continued. “Nothing I can do about that.”

His eyes sparkled as he watched his opponent’s face fall.

Loki swallowed and set to speak, to plead his case with a list of reasons he had prepared in advance, but his words were cut off with a sharp movement from the Asgardian. “I have no time to discuss this.” The smile was wiped from Dellingr`s face. “Leave.”

And that had been that.

Loki had fumed as he left the throne room.

He felt like he had a solution to the problem he had been given, and not being allowed to try his best to resolve it... how very frustrating!  
Loki knew he was not going to give up.   
No way.

But at the same time Dellingr was clearly not going to support him.

Which meant Loki would have to ask Thor for help.

He grimaced.

The thought alone grated at his inner core like little beasts scratching and clawing at his pride.  
But if that was what it would take... so be it.

Loki made his way to the library where he sat down and took a quill, a well of ink and a sheet of ice-proof paper. Then he stared at the white expanse for what felt like an eternity.  
Finally he slotted down a list of things that he thought he would need – manpower, building materials, tools and seeds – each point with short descriptions as to why he was asking for them.

When he was done he leaned back and read what he had written, gnawing on his lips.  
He shook his head, realizing that it felt like he was pleading, begging even.

Slowly he ripped the letter apart and started anew.

The second letter turned out to be the exact opposite – short, cold, impersonal.  
Not good enough.

Loki sat well into the night, writing letter after letter until he ended up with a couple of few polite yet impersonal sentences followed by a well thought-through list of demands. He signed it hastily.  
Then he stuck it into an envelope, adding a drop of black wax to seal it.

There.

The next morning he passed the letter to a messenger and watched through the window as the man rode out of the gate.

Now he just had to wait.

x

It turned out he did not have to wait for very long.

Less than a week went by before the Asgardian returned with two medium-sized chests strapped to the back of his steed. He dismounted and handed Loki a thin, sealed envelope. Loki opened the cream-colored letter as he stood in the courtyard, thumbing the single, thick sheet of paper before reading it.

The message was short and just as impersonal as the one he had sent out a week ago.

Thor agreed to give him the labor of five Jötnar for the span of one month to build an ice house. He furthermore allowed the help of one worker to support Loki with the farming beyond that. The only condition he had was that the ice house was to be built in close proximity to the capital under the supervision of a soldier of Dellingr's choosing.

Loki grimaced.

He was not to be trusted then.  
Fair enough.

The rest of the letter simply stated that if he had need of anything else he could, within reason, ask for it and it would be provided.

And that was it.

Loki had the chests brought to a granary where he sat and opened them, sheltered from the storm outside. The first one contained neat rows of white cotton pouches, all of them bulging with different kinds of seeds. They were tightly bound with brown string, little notes on each indicating what type of crop they would yield, with a couple of notes on the back on the conditions they would thrive in, be that light, wind, soft snow or hard ice.

The second chest contained a couple of tools, a large book on the farming of ice plants as well as a single square box the size of a head. Another, much thicker letter was stuck to the top of the wooden container, this one a creamy yellow. Loki carefully peeled it off and opened it. He squinted at the neat, curvy words written in blue ink, so different from Thor's chicken-scratch scrawl.

Loki blinked, then read.

_Dear Loki._

_I hope that this letter finds you and the child well._  
I heard that my grandson is a wolf!  
How exciting!  
I dearly hope that I will one day get to meet him! 

_I am glad that you will be using the knowledge you gathered in the ice houses of Asgard to grow food. Thor has sent everything you requested, but I took the liberty to enclose something I believe will be of true value for you. I am sure you remember the orbs that were used to regulate light? As you wished we have supplied one in this delivery, very much hoping that it will survive the strenuous journey. I decided to add instructions on how to magic ice for the same purpose to this letter. The Norns know it took me a while to master the spell, but I know you are very talented and I truly believe that you will have no trouble with it._

_Please take care of yourself and don't hesitate to ask for anything you need._  
I send blessings and well wishes to you and my grandson.  
May the Norns smile upon you both. 

_Love, Frigga_

Loki lowered the letter, rubbed his face.  
He leafed through the rest of the pages, confirming that they indeed contained a thorough manual on how to weave a spell for creating light. He set it aside before he carefully removed the lid to the box, taking out a thickly wrapped package from a nest of soft wool. He peeled off layer after layer of thick linen until he revealed a fist-sized, milky-white ball radiating magic.

Loki very carefully turned it in his hands.  
He could see no cracks or fractures, the surface smooth and strangely warm under his cold fingers.  
When he let his seiðr flow through it the ball started to glow faintly.

Loki smiled.

Cautiously he lowered his hand, watching mesmerized as the sphere hovered in the air where his hands used to be. He placed his fingertips back against the clear surface and carefully pushed more magic into it, and, just as he had anticipated, it burned brighter.

A truly precious gift.

And Frigga had added the instructions to make more! 

Loki felt a twinge of gratitude that he quickly pushed back down again.  
He did not wish to feel indebted to his former captor, nor to his mother.  
At least not if he could help it.

Still, he sat down that very evening and took time to fashion a note of thanks to Frigga and Thor, knowing full well that he might have to ask for more favors in the future.

x

The next morning Loki watched the messenger ride away once more, his red cape flapping like a flag before fading into the whiteness of the storm.

x

Loki went to speak to Dellingr.

He offered Thor's letter to the administrator, suppressing a triumphant smile when he saw the Asgardian’s face fall as he read the demands. When Dellingr looked up again his eyes were thunderous. “I will need a couple of days to find laborers I can spare.”

Loki shrugged. “Of course. Please inform me when they are ready.”

Dellingr's fingers curled around the letter, his voice tight with contempt. “You can come to the eastern gate at sunrise in four days. I will send them there.”

Loki nodded. “I thank thee.” The sound of his voice, cold with disrespect, belied the meaning of the words.

x

Three days later, just as the skies tinted gray with the first rays of the weak suns, Loki was walking past the crumbling city walls. Fenris was strapped tightly to his chest, the small wolf's ears perked as he watched his surrounding with inquisition.  
Loki ignored the tired looking soldier whose booted feet were crunching through the snow behind him. The man had neither offered a greeting nor his name when he had met him earlier this morning, his eyes cold as he had followed the Jötun outside the castle.

It was fine.  
As long as he did not get in the way, Loki told himself that it did not matter who he was working with. Or who would be watching his every step, for that matter.

He walked swiftly, and when he stepped through the eastern gate he could already see four Jötnar leaning against the wall in the distance. Their heads rose as he approached them, and they pushed themselves to stand tall. They towered above them as they glowered down upon the runt and the Asgardian soldier. 

Four.  
Just four.

Thor had promised him five!

Loki gritted his teeth and forced the irritation back down where it burned hot in his stomach.  
Instead he let his eyes wander over the Jötnar Dellingr had chosen to send him.

The tallest one stood well over four meters tall, a heavily scarred former Alpha lacking his horns. The enormous Giant smirked as he approached, and when he turned to the side to address the Jötun next to him, Loki could catch a brief glimpse of the vast network of scars crisscrossing over his back and shoulders.  
Whip marks.  
Some of them looked fresh.

Loki's fingers curled into Fenris’ fur, pulling him closer to his chest.  
He hoped it would not prove to be a mistake to have brought his son here today.

The second Jötun was a little smaller, though he still stood well over three and a half meters tall. A thick, raised scar ran over his face, a maimed pit where his left eye used to be. He bore marks of lashings as well, visible on his shoulders and side of his arms.

The two could easily be felons, maybe even rebels.  
Whatever they were, Loki was sure that Dellingr expected them to make his life hard, one way or another.

He lifted his head higher as he stopped in front of the small gathering.

His eyes continued to wander.  
The other two Jötnar were just as notable, though for different reasons.

One of them was considerably smaller than the others, though still at around two-and-a-half to three meters. He was slight, almost fragile looking for a Frost Giant, the signs of Ergi wound and circled over his flesh, tattooed and branded into his skin. He did not meet Loki`s eyes as he stood in front of him. His arms were thin and his hands soft-looking – Loki wondered if he had ever done a day of hard labor in his life.  
Probably not. 

The fourth was missing an arm.

Fantastic.

Loki did not allow his annoyance to show as his eyes glided over the small group, aware of crimson eyes staring at him.  
His first reaction was to turn around and walk straight back to Dellingr – one worker was missing and the rest were less than desirable – between two felons, an Ergi and a cripple, Loki felt as if he was destined to fail.  
He gritted his teeth.  
The problem was that Loki was sure that Dellingr _wanted_ him to complain, to make a scene, to lament and scream. Maybe the administrator wished for him to run straight to Thor and beg him for his help, pouting and pointing his finger… it would interrupt this whole process, would delay the building by weeks if not even months.  
Loki was sure that the next batch of workers would not be any better.  
And neither would the ones after that.

And unless Thor came here himself to pick who would help him, there was nothing he could do about that.

Loki realized with a pang that he would have to let it go and do the best with what he had been given.  
At least for now.

He took a deep breath.

Fine.

He would show Dellingr that he could prevail, even without his help.

Loki cleared his throat, offered a small nod to the four Jötnar still watching him closely. “Good morning.”

There was a moment of silence, then the tallest of the former Alphas leaned forward and spat a thick blob of phlegm onto the floor just in front of Loki's feet.

Loki kept his face a mask of indifference. “Charming” he noted dryly.

No one offered a reply, though the larger Giants exchanged a glance, and one of them smirked unsavory, lazily crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Loki focused on him for a moment, then continued. “Were you told why you are here today?”

The tallest Alpha rolled his shoulders back, barking out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Because the Ergi whore of the Asgardians wants us to build him an _outhouse_.” He spat on the floor one more time. “Not going to happen.” He stared down at Loki, his eyes burning a dark challenge.

Loki focused on the tall Jötun, his face a stoic mask. “Not an outhouse, an _ice_ house. A place to grow crops.” He sighed when a puzzled look flashed over the former Warrior’s face. “Food. A place to farm food.”

Loki registered in the corner of his eye that the slight Jötun had lifted his head, if just for a moment.  
Then the Ergi focused back on the floor.

The larger Giant just continued to stare at him. “What are you talking about, whore?”

Fenris had started rumbling low in his throat, ears plastered down to his skull. He must have picked up the loathing rolling off the Jötnar in front of them. Loki's hand rubbed his son's back mechanically, trying to soothe him. His own voice was icy as he replied. “My name is Loki. Loki Laufeyson.” He sneered. “And you will address me as such.”

The former Alpha's eyes glittered. “I know who you are. You are the one who spread his legs to save his own life, birthing that abomination that you are holding there. We all know. Who you are. What you are.” He stood even taller, snarling out the words. “You are the whore of the Thunderer.” He punched a fist into his hand. “You have no right to your father's name, _Mage!_ ”

Loki could feel cold anger curl in his stomach, dark and dangerous. He pushed it down, controlling himself.  
This was not a fight he wanted to get into.  
Not today.  
Not if he could help it.

He took a deep breath. “Fine, if that's what you wish to think. Just call me Loki.” He could not suppress a sneer. “Or Lord. It is really up to you.”

The Giant laughed as if he had won a victory. “Loki what? Loki the traitor? Loki the whore? Loki the Mage? Which one would you prefer, _Lord_?”

Loki gritted out between his teeth: “I am neither traitor nor whore, no matter what you call me.” He took another deep breath to steady himself. “Enough of this idle banter. If you are quite through with your insults maybe we can get to the task at hand! We only have one month to build this ice house, and...”

The former Alpha had straightened and stepped closer, towering high above Loki. “I am not working for you! You are ill luck! You Mages, you have lost us the big war. Your kind, they have _ruined_ us! Conjuring storms, darkness, the downfall of our race! Laufey did right to kill them all! He should have done the same to _you_ the moment your horns emerged. You are cursed! I am not working for you! None of us are!” He looked around at the others, eyes sparkling a dark dare to oppose him.

Loki snarled, forcing his fingers not to curl into his son´s fur in his anger.

Fine.  
If they wanted to have this discussion right here and now... so be it.

He lifted his head, staring at the former Alpha looming above him. His voice was low, almost husky as he answered. “All of you, you bleat the same story, over and over! Yes, a single Mage started the events that lost us the thousand-year war! One Mage! One mistake!” Loki shook his head, spread out his fingers. “And in turn Laufey murdered a _fourth_ of what used to be our ancient civilization, wiped away a large part of our history and olden traditions without even batting an eye.” He pointed at the city wall, crumbled and destroyed. “Now look where we are today! The balance between Warriors and Mages, between Alphas and Ergis is destroyed. The ancient equilibrium that made our realm great is shattered! A Mage may have lost the thousand-year war, but Laufey lost us the whole damn realm!”

The enormous Jötun leaned forward, his hands fisting at his sides. His voice was a low rumble, dripping with contempt. “You lie! There was no harmony in the olden days! There were just Mages who spoke out of turn, Ergis who believed themselves to be equal to Alphas instead of submitting and accepting how weak and corrupted they were. That´s what brought our downfall.” He shook his head, words no less than a bark. “Laufey lost the second war because he left _you_ alive. It was the Norns punishing us, for not doing what we should have. You are cursed! Everybody knows it!”

Loki´s cheeks darkened with anger. “Of course! It was my fault that Laufey attacked a force so much greater than ours, without as much as a plan. It was my fault that he killed all who knew of the ancient war strategies, who would have told him that sending your whole army all at once against our most powerful enemy may not have been the best of ideas! And of course it was also my fault that the pure strength of the Alphas was not enough to defeat Thor and his army!” Loki laughed, though the sound was humorless. “When Mages joined the battles the last war lasted over a thousand years! Laufey`s fight lasted less than six months!”

The Giant towering above Loki let out a wheezing laugh. “So if you and your Mage friends had fought against Asgard, we would have won? Sent those bastards...” He nodded at the soldier still standing at Loki's side. “... to Hel, like they deserved?”

Loki raised his chin defiantly, fingers trying to soothe the pup who was still growling, struggling as if to get away from the former Alpha close enough that they could feel the cold radiating from his body. “No. If Mages had been around there would have been no war! Not as weakened as our army was, with our granaries depleted, the realm itself desolated! Laufey should never have provoked Asgard! It was a fool's errand! You don't need ancient war strategies to know that when you are weakened you do not pick a fight with someone who is stronger than you! Not if you are not sure that you can win! Especially not with Odin and his son!”

The Jötun threw his head back, his laughter booming, echoing off the city walls. “The Golden One fucked his propaganda into you well and good, didn't he? Are you going to sing his song for us now, like the low-life slave that you are?”

Loki snarled. “I am no slave!”

The Giant growled. “You keep telling yourself that, little one! But just remember what you have been doing in the last couple of centuries! Wearing a collar, spreading your legs, taking cock, carrying the Golden One's spawn. It's all that you're good for after all!”

Loki stilled.  
He took a deep breath, then another.  
His voice was low but steady when he finally answered. “Then so are you!”

The Jötun stiffened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “What?”

Loki stared up at him, mouth set in a grim line. “If I am a lowly Ergi slave, well then so are you! You are Alpha no more.” He looked around, eyes gliding over the rest of the small group. “None of you are. You have lost your horns, your pride, your ability to fight. You have lost your freedom. You are Ergi, all of you! I am a slave, good only for taking cock? Well, then so are you. No more, no less.”

The enormous Jötun snarled and lowered his head, a threat stemming from hundreds and thousands of years of using his horns as weapons.

Then he shot forward and grabbed Loki, his large hands digging painful bruises into his skin.

Loki froze, horror exploding in the pit of his stomach.  
His inability to move lasted only for a second, then adrenaline raced through his bloodstream, overruling his fear, blanking his thoughts.

Fenris!

Just as Loki was pulled towards the roaring Giant he raised his hands, flames springing from his fingers. Before this opponent could rip him around Loki send a bolt of energy towards him, hitting him square in the chest. The Jötun let out a strangled sound as he was lifted off his feet and was thrown back by the force of the magic, flying more than five meters through the air before he shattered into the city wall behind him.

There he crumbled to the floor.

Loki stood shivering, his hands still raised in a defensive position.  
A quick glance down to the pup proved that while he had stopped growling he was unharmed.

Thank the Norns.

Loki raised his eyes, his gaze gliding over the rest of the Jötnar. They all stood frozen to the spot, staring wide-eyed at their fallen comrade.

The second large Alpha slowly turned towards Loki, hatred flaming in his single eye. “You did not lift a finger during the war but now you attack one of your own?” He spat on the floor and turned, walking towards the heaving Giant lying on the ground. He bent down to help him to his feet, his arms curling around his waist to steady his larger friend as he swayed dangerously from one side to the other. Loki watched in silence as the large Giant slowly found his feet once more, his eyes glazed with pain and confusion.

The smaller Jötun made sure that he stood securely before he glared at Loki, voice a vicious snarl. “We are done here, whore. We're leaving.”

“No, you're not.”  
Both the former Alpha and Loki turned around at the sound, surprised by Asgardian speaking up after having been silent for so long.  
The soldier was almost casually leaning on his spear, looking bored. He spoke with a voice almost too low to understand. “You were commanded to work here. Either you do that or you go back to the stocks.” He shrugged. “If you choose to leave, Dellingr will add another fifty lashes and two more months in solitary confinement to each of your sentences.” The soldier paused for effect as let the words sink in. The face of the Jötnar darkened. “Or you can work one month here and then go back to your old jobs. Up to you really.”

Loki stared at the soldier, his fingers still tightly curled around his son’s small body.  
He was shaking.  
Maybe the shock from the attack was finally getting to him.

He cleared his throat, glad that his voice was steady when he spoke. “Interesting. Something you could have mentioned in advance.” He looked around, taking in the silent Giants glaring at them both. He turned back towards the Asgardian, raised his chin.“ Please do feel free to step in any time you think you may be needed!”

The soldier shifted, stared at him with dead eyes. “Not my job. I´m not your babysitter.” He spat out, shifted. “Also, you clearly did not need me.” His mouth pulled down in distaste. “Witch.”

Loki closed his mouth and stared at the Asgardian for several heartbeats.  
Then he slowly turned back to the small group.

The four Jötnar were all focused on him. The large former Alpha was standing on his own once more, his hand pressed to his chest, breathing laborious and pained. A mixture of fear and anger flickered in his eyes still glazed with agony.

Loki took a deep breath, and then another.

Well.

He wondered how far he would get before one of them would try to murder him.  
Probably best to leave Fenris in his (writing ‘their’ sounds a bit like you are talking about the rooms of the Jötnar) rooms from now on.

Still, they had a lot to do and not much time to do it.

Loki swallowed. “Ok. Listen up...”

x

Building the first ice house took the better part of six days.

Unfortunately, neither Loki nor any of the others really knew what they were doing.

Loki once more relied on the knowledge of books; he went through his sparse library and sat himself down in the evenings until well into night, turning page after page, trying to find information on architecture, or on how to build using ice.

But there was very little to be found.

Almost nothing at all.

As Dellingr had denied them the use of stones from the collapsed city wall, Loki had his men cut large bricks from the nearby Ice Mountains and haul them back to the site, where they stacked them on top of each other in a more or less neat manner.

After six days four crooked walls stood and Loki had them drag in a thick sheet of ice to lay it across as a makeshift roof... It wasn’t beautiful, but at least it provided shelter from the storm.

The first ice house, pitiful as it was, stood.

So far so good.

Loki managed to sleep several hours that night, tired and spent.

The physical act of building had added to the great mental strain he had been under, and he was glad that he could find some rest.

So far none of the Jötnar had tried to attack him, but Loki continued to look over his shoulder, never once daring to let his guard down, and he could feel the strain taking a toll on his body and mind.  
Also, he had chosen to leave Fenris in his rooms during the day, only visiting him every now and then to feed him, believing the pup much safer than if he had taken him to the building site. But leaving his son alone for hours on end made him feel like a bad mother, and while the little wolf clearly did not suffer, Loki in turn did.

Which was why he felt so very tired when he got up the next morning, just before the suns rose.  
He left his rooms still drowsy and made his way to the eastern city wall, stepping through the gate into the storm.  
He blinked and lifted his head to look for the building they had finished just the day before.

It took him a long moment to comprehend what he was seeing.

When he did he stopped dead in his tracks.

In front of him lay the sad remnants of what had been an ice house only last night.  
Two of the walls had collapsed into rubble heaps and the other two leaned against each other like drunken men. The ice sheet of the roof had broken into two large pieces and slid off to the side where one part of it had shattered, shards of sharp ice littering the floor.

The ice house was no more.  
It was broken.  
Destroyed.

So much work.  
All for nothing.

Heat rushed through Loki, a hot mix of despair, anger and frustration.  
He snarled out a curse as his hands fisted into the soft leather of his cloak.

How could this have happened?

Loki stepped closer to the ruins, the bitter taste of failure washing through his mouth. He bent down and mumbled another curse, fingers gliding over the fractured icen bricks.  
Had someone really dared to tear down and destroy what he and his workers had erected in painstaking labor?

He took a deep breath, let his eyes glide over the fractured pieces.

How could this have happened?

He must have spoken the question out loud, for Loki flinched violently when he received an answer from a raspy voice behind him. 

“The building was shit. It is really no wonder it collapsed. Someone only had to give it a hard push, no more!”

Loki swung around, his fingers already flickering with flames to ward off an attack.

He blinked in confusion when he saw whom he was facing, and lowered his hands.

Opposite him stood an old, gnarly Giant, bent over and crooked, at least eight or nine thousand years old.  
Ancient.  
The elder was still bearing his horns; though they were brittle and worn, blunt with age and what must have been decades of fighting. He pulled his mouth into a slanted grin, his dull eyes twinkling with intelligence. “Really, I had expected better of you!”

Loki, taken aback, closed his mouth and blinked. “What?”

The elder Giant shook his head as if disappointed and turned back towards the ruined building. He raised his hand and waved it around, painting an outline of what used to be the ice house into the air. His voice sounded like icesheets grinding against each other. “I mean, what were you thinking? I am pretty sure there was no foundation. And the walls were too high.” He turned, glowered at Loki. “And whose idea was it to put a flat roof on top of a building in a place where it constantly snows? Did you not think about the weight that would pile up over time? Even if you had done everything else right, which, clearly you did not, this... _construction_ would not have lasted more than a couple of months. Really, someone did you a favor knocking it down.”

Loki stilled, his eyes narrowing. “Was it you? Did you dare to...?”

He was interrupted by the elder, glowering down at him. “What are you, an idiot?”

Loki felt his cheeks flush with the insult. He straightened his spine and threw his head back. “No. I am not an idiot. I am...”

The Giant waved his hands in a dismissive manner. “Loki, son of Laufey. I know.” He sighed, a loud, dramatic sound. “It’s not like _everybody_ isn’t talking about you. Can´t turn a single bloody corner without hearing someone spouting some bullshit about what you did or where you were or what you said.” He raised his voice mockingly. “Loki – The consort to our worst enemy. Loki – The traitor working with our captors. Loki – The mother of the beast.” He grinned again, showing a row of stumped teeth. “So many stories, little one!”

Loki swallowed, dumbfounded. “I...”

The old Giant continued without missing a beat. “I mean, it’s all nice and good that you have decided to confuse the shit out of everybody by running around and disturbing the order of things – I mean, a Mage using his seiðr out in the open and pretending that he can do whatever he wants without shame? An Ergi ignoring the commands of his Alpha? What has Jötunheimr come to?” He continued to grin broadly. “But when I heard that you were building an ice-house I had to come see it with my own eyes. And I must say... you have no damned clue about what you are doing, do you?”

Loki stared at the old Giant. “Well...”

The elder lifted his walking stick, pointing it towards the collapsed ice house. “I mean, that is the saddest excuse for any type of building I have ever seen. No foundation! Bricks cut straight from ice!” He shook his head. “You need to make them from powdered snow and set them with pressure and iced water! You don't just cut them out of the mountain and hope that they will hold. Who came up with that plan? A yak?” He waved about with his stick. “And that damned roof! Don't even get me started!” He looked down at Loki, something flickering in his eyes. “They say that you are a genius, but they obviously exaggerated greatly!”

Loki stared at the old Jötun. He swallowed, mouth dry. “Who in Hel are you?”

The Giant lowered his walking stick, leaning on it once more. He returned Loki’s stare, mouth pulled into a crooked grin. “Me? I am nobody.” He coughed out another laugh. “I am just another useless Jötun, too old to have his horns removed but still good enough to push a broom around the kitchens.”

“Uhmmm...” Loki blinked. His eyes roamed over the raised scars on the elder´s skin, unable to read much of his history in the lines of the Alpha. His mind was racing. “Who were when you still used to be somebody then?”

The old Giant’s face turned solemn; he straightened, lifted his head. Loki could see that his hunched figure belied his real size; the Jötun must have once stood well over four meters tall. “I am Ulf, the former royal architect to Utgard-king. Lost my position under your father – I believe he thought I talked too much and had too little respect for his insane ideas about killing off the magic folk. He had me imprisoned and then sent me to war – guess he hoped I would get myself killed. No such luck.” He snorted. “Now I clean floors and wipe down tables.” His eyes wandered up and down Loki`s slighter form. “But when I heard about you… the crazy Mage-son of Laufey once more defying his heritage and this time trying to construct buildings – that sounded like a lot more fun than shuffling around in the kitchens. So I decided to help you” He looked around, shook his head in dismay. “And if you don't mind me saying so, little one, you desperately need me! You might be a lot of things, but above all you are a horrible builder!”

Loki blinked, opened his mouth, closed it.  
His mind was whirling with all the information he had just received.

A Jötun who had not believed in his father’s politics?  
Who offered his help?

He gathered his thoughts, and opened his mouth when the Giant spoke once more, another enormous grin spreading his features. “You must tell me one thing, Loki, son of Laufey: Are the stories really true? Did the olden Gods really send fires from the sky to protect you and your babe when one of those imbeciles threatened you?”

Loki frowned. Trying to follow the mental leaps of the Jötun turned out to be hard work. “Yeah... no. One of my workers attacked me. I used my seiðr to fight him off.” Loki shrugged. “The olden Gods were not involved. They rarely are.”

“Really? Well, that’s disappointing.” The elder laughed, shaking his head. “The story I was told is a whole lot better. It had fire and brimstone and loud voices booming from the sky. Reality is so much more boring, isn’t it?”

Loki knit his brows, shaking his head. “Do you always talk that much?”

The elder cackled, a low, wheezing sound. “Always, little one, always. You will get used to it.”

x

That was the day Loki got himself the help of a master builder.

x

Loki spent the next hour following the old Giant around the building site.   
Ulf studied his surroundings, slighting Loki`s choice of the area and belittling the proximity of the site to the city wall – he talked non-stop, barking out insult after insult without even turning his head.  
Apparently nothing Loki had done had been correct.  
Nothing whatsoever.

Loki felt like an idiot, sharp words gathering on the tip of his tongue, wanting to defend himself in the face of so much criticism.

But he could hardly get a word in, the elder builder speaking without taking a breath.

So instead he listened.

It turned out there was a lot for him to learn.

Once the elder Giant had finished his rant he seamlessly went over to explaining what to look for in the new site and what they would have to be aware of. He talked about the property and condition of the floor, the angle of the wind and the speed with which it would hit the building; he contemplated the size of the foundation that would be necessary, the thickness and height of the walls, the amount and size of the bricks they would need.

Ulf finally chose a site for the foundation and explained how they would need to harden the ice of the floor by covering it with soft snow and packing it down by stomping on it for hours, then pouring water over the area and letting it freeze overnight. He talked about making bricks by forming a mold with sheets of ice and doing much of the same – filling them with powdered snow, stomping on it, covering it with water, freezing it.

Loki soaked up the information like a sponge, burning each word into his memory.

For one thing became clear to him rather quickly: Ulf had much wisdom to share and many stories to tell. The elder offered his knowledge freely, saturated with jokes and little anecdotes, and he had the rare talent to make difficult ideas easy to understand – listening to him was a real joy.

Within less than an hour the four workers that were waiting by the wall received their new instructions – Ryg and Bolverk, the two large, former Alpha felons were to shovel soft snow onto their new site and to stomp it down into a hard foundation while Njal, the Ergi, and Gunaleif, the one-armed Jötun, were setting up small sheets of ice to form snow into bricks. 

Once everyone had been assigned a task and Ulf had finished his planning, Loki turned to overview the progress and help wherever he could – fetching buckets, melting snow into water using his fire, hauling materials and so on.

That evening, he was more tired than he had been in a long while and yet he managed to rest well that night.  
He finally felt like they were moving in the right direction. 

Under the close supervision of Ulf it took them ten days to set the foundation and prepare all the bricks he believed that they would need. Then they pulled up the walls, Ulf watching closely and cursing them loudly as he kept track of the angle and manner in which the bricks were positioned. Once the wall stood they then constructed the rounded ceiling by using a framework they made from ice until, finally, just two days shy of the end of the month the last brick was laid.

The ice house turned out to be no more than three meters high (Ulf had said that gardeners spent much of their times bent over anyway) but much broader than Loki had hoped for.

On top of that it looked solid.

Like it would last one hundred years.

That same evening, after the workers had left, Loki stepped into his newly constructed ice house for the first time.  
He stood in silence alone in the darkness, a wave of pride and relief washing through him.

He did not turn when Ulf shuffled in behind him, staring into the darkness that was only diminished by the soft light from flames flickering on his palm.  
For a couple of minutes they simply stood in silence, listening to the howling of the storm dampened by the thick brick walls, and Loki relished the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction. 

Finally he spoke. “It looks... good.” He smiled, unseen in the darkness.

The elder behind him grunted. “Yes. And at least this one will hold, even if she is no beauty.”

Loki turned around, raised an eyebrow questioningly. “She?”

Ulf huffed out a laugh. “Yes. Small buildings like this are usually she's. Just like runts are usually Ergi`s. Makes sense, yes?”

Loki grinned.

His Ergi ice house.

Sure.

Why not?

He turned back towards the darkness.  
Another wave of satisfaction washed through him.

He had survived the month without another attack.  
Fenris was safe.  
They were done. He could start planting his crops.

He turned and smiled as he left the building, side by side with the old, chatty architect.

On top of everything, he had made a friend.

Though he would not say it out loud.

Loki grinned.

He would never hear the end of it.


	38. Father and son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! First of all, thanks for all the wonderful comments for the last chapter, they, as always, lit a small happy fire in my stomach! Sorry I have not been able to reply to all of them, I will promise to better myself this time around.   
> I am sure I mentioned this before, but I can clearly see the end coming closer and closer, and I am dreading and welcoming it at the same time. Should be no more than 4-5 chapters...  
> So please, enjoy the new chapter and as always, let me know what you think. If you made it this far, it would be great if you could leave kudos, cause I seriously write for them.   
> Thanks to my beta-writer uluka, who this time around taught me what a main clause was.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> x

The ice house was finished.

Loki took the next couple of days to rest and gather back his strength.  
He spent his time with Fenris, glad that his son had not taken ill to the hours and days he had been on his own. He played and cuddled with the small wolf until the little one finally growled at his dam, padding away with ruffled fur, his head high and proud as if to say that he did not need to be coddled.

After that, Loki took many hours to read through the book on ice plants that Thor had sent him, as well as look through the meticulous notes he had taken himself when still in Asgard, thinking about where he wanted to go from here.

Now that he had an actual ice house, what did he want to plant?  
And how would he go about it?

He slotted down ideas, made little charts, considering the growth rate of the different types of plants, the nutritional value of the crops and the effort it would take to tend to and harvest each one.  
He had one worker to help him, and no more.

When Loki finally felt sure about what he wanted to do, he spent time magicking orbs of his own, forming additional spheres from snow and ice and following the instructions Frigga had sent to him. It took him a little longer to master the spell than he had hoped for, but in the end he had three more light sources in addition to the one he had already received. He was fairly sure that they would be enough for the size of the building.

When all of this was done Loki strapped Fenris to his chest and went back to the newly built ice house.

He had asked Njal to join him, for he had found the calm, efficient manner of the slight Ergi reassuring when they had worked on the building site in the month prior. The small Jötun had only a very limited understanding of how to work with plants or of farming in general, but Loki knew that he listened closely, followed instructions well and took the time to consider his tasks and ask questions before he went to work.

They would get along well.

Before they started seeding out the crops they took the time to meticulously partition off the ice house into six parts, allocating each plot to a different type of plant. Then they prepared the ground, hauling buckets of soft snow into some areas and drilling small, deep holes into the hard-packed ice in others, depending on the need of each crop.

Loki had brought six pouches packed with the seeds he had chosen to work with, and by the third day they were finally ready to sow them out. They started with three different types of grains and three sorts of vegetables.

Once the seeds were scattered they covered some with soft snow and left others in the open air, then distributed the light orbs, depending on the needs of each plant. Last but not least Loki set a circadian rhythm for the orbs, making sure that they would mimic the rise and fall of the suns of the Icen Realm.

And that had been that.

Now all they could do was wait.

And that, in the end, turned out to be the hardest part, at least for Loki.

X

Loki and Fenris spent much of the following months in the ice house. The little wolf enjoyed the new location, running between the planted rows, burrowing into the snow and fleeing from his cursing mother who chased him away whenever he did too much damage.

Njal and Loki set up a watering schedule, raked through snow and ice, and otherwise just sat and watched the plants grow, painfully slow. 

After only two weeks Loki let his impatience get the better of him.

He wondered, and not for the first time, if he would be able to use his seiðr to encourage the plants to grow faster. He sent Njal away and sat between the seeded rows, ignoring Fenris who snuffled between his feet and placed his palms upon the ground. He searched for the energy surrounding him and grimaced when he felt the net of the realm`s own core broken seemingly beyond repair, ripped into little pieces that floated without anchor all around them. He concentrated and let the power of the universe stream through his body and into his fingers, trying to disperse the vitality and ancient power to the hatching seeds.

It did not work.

Broken and tattered as the realm´s energy was, his own magic was lost before it could reach the plants, evaporating into nothingness.

Frustrated, Loki stood: He turned in circles, then tried the next best thing he could think of and walked along the rows, touching plant after plant, offering the singular seeds of his magic to coax them to grow marginally faster.

It took only a few hours for him to be exhausted, his own core hollowed out and emptied of energy.

The plants he had managed to touch, no more than maybe eighty or ninety at the most, had each grown a little less than a centimeter.

They had sown out hundreds, if not thousands of seeds.

Loki stared into the expanse of the rowed fields around him.

It would not work.

He was not sure if this was a type of magic he simply had not mastered yet or if the energy of the realm was too broken to work with. 

Either way, it did not matter.  
Nature would have to take its own course.

He would simply have to wait.

x

The days passed.

They bleed into weeks and finally months.

Loki had set up a routine, bringing his books to study and practice his seiðr, enjoying the calmness of the ice house where the only sounds were the muffled howling of the storm outside and the panted breaths of his son who raced around the floor, yipping whenever Loki tried to grab him as he passed by.

The crops grew, silently, undeterred.

After roughly three months some of the grains had reached hip-height, almost a third of the building covered in a sea of silvery-blue stalks. It was a secret pleasure for Loki to walk along the rows and let his fingers run over the soft stubble's of the young grain, smelling the distinctive earthy fertility of the plants.

Two months later they had their first harvest.

Two of the six crops had grown fantastically, better than Loki had dared to hope, the stalks of the grain bending under the fat kernels they carried. Apparently they had thrived under the conditions Loki had decided on, and he took careful note of what he had done to be able to reproduce the results in the future.

The other crops... needed a bit of work.

One of the leafy vegetables had grown, though much sparser than Loki had hoped for – but the third type of grain and the other two vegetables had hardly gone past the seed stage at all.  
Loki was not sure where the fault lay – whether in the temperature, the consistency of the ground, the salt-content of the water, the lack of wind, the deficit or abundance of light... but he would find out.

He would just have to make the partitions smaller next time and runs trials on the different conditions he could offer.

Still, after the harvest Loki had two mid-sized sacks of grain and a small sack of cabbage, all of which he was exceedingly proud of. He let the seeds run tenderly through his fingers before he pulled the string of the burlap pouch to a close.

It was not much.  
But it was a good enough start.

Better than that, it was proof that he could do it!

Loki grinned.

He had needed that as much as anything else.

X

Thor visited a couple of months later.  
He arrived half-way before the next harvest and Loki was secretly proud to show him what he had accomplished. He took the Odinson into his ice house and led him through the rows of grain, pointing out the small patches of vegetables, discussing some of the difficulties he had been facing.

Back at the entrance Loki turned and stared at Thor, lifting his chin as if to dare the other to speak ill of his accomplishments.

Instead Thor smiled at him softly. “I must admit, I am impressed.”

Loki´s features did not betray his emotions. Instead he nodded curtly. “I told you I could do it.”

Thor looked around, his eyes roaming over the sea of grain surrounding them. “Yes, you did. And you were right.”

Loki raised his head. “I want to build more ice houses.”

Thor´s brow furrowed, then he nodded. “How many more?”

A small, smug smile crept over Loki´s features, giving him the look of a content cat that had stolen cream. “Five to start with. Another five in two more years.” When he had heard that Thor would visit he had taken time to consider the request, calculating what he believed was possible and he could do. He had taken down an extensive list of reasons and ideas that he was more than happy to share.

Thor just laughed softly, pushing his hand through his hair. He took another look around, his gaze gliding over rows of grain, his own mind churning with ideas of his own. He turned back towards Loki, staring down into his glittering crimson eyes. “Let´s start with three more. And I shall see where you are at in two years.” He looked at Loki, grinning. “I am sure you can already tell me what you will need?”

Loki nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. “Yes.”

Thor nodded. “Thought so. Let's go and discuss this over some mead then. I am sure your list is extensive.”

Loki smiled. “It sure is.“

x

Thor took the time to see Fenris later that afternoon, as he always did when he came by to visit Jötunheimr.

The little wolf´s reaction was less than welcoming.

He growled as his father approached him, his fur standing on end. When Thor leaned down to card his fingers through the unruly black curls that were messy no matter how often Loki groomed them, Fenris bit him.   
Hard.   
Then he turned and ran.  
Loki was quick enough to catch him and pick up the struggling pup, murmuring soothing words into the ears that were glued flat to his skull. He offered the little wolf to his father, but Fenris continued to struggle profusely, twisting in the confines of Thor´s arms, growling and snarling, scratching at pink skin until it bled.

Finally Thor put him back down on the floor, and his son scampered into a dark corner, his low snarls audible all through the room.

Loki shrugged. “He will come around.”

The smile on Thor´s lips was forced as he nodded, his eyes darkened with suppressed misery.  
He left soon after, the cheer that had brightened his features earlier wiped away.

The Odinson stayed for another two days to discuss all the issues of the realm with Dellingr, thrice more trying to connect to his son.

But it was to no avail.

By the time he left Thor had not once been able to pet his son without being bitten.

Loki felt almost sorry for him.

 

x

In the evening of his first meeting with Thor, Loki took the stairs down towards the empty kitchens where he found Ulf sitting by himself in a corner. The elder builder sat with a mug of water, his face lighting up when Fenris scampered down the stairs next to his mother. When he lowered himself painfully down towards the floor, the little wolf ran towards him, sniffing and licking his fingers before running off to roam the fascinating world of scents surrounding him.

Loki sat and thankfully accepted a cup of water, smiling broadly. He had hardly been able to wait to tell the builder the news. “I get to build two more ice houses!”

The elder Giant grinned back. “Of course you do. I heard that boy is here. He would allow you to do anything, wouldn't he?”

Loki grimaced, shook his head. “That _boy_ , as you call him, is the mightiest king of all the realms.”

Ulf shifted, winced when the small movement pained his aching joints. “Is he though? I thought his father still held that title. Or did that old fart finally die in his sleep?”

Loki snorted. “I swear, old man, one day that tongue of yours is going to get you into so much trouble.”

Ulf laughed, an ugly, hacking sound. “It already has too often, little one.” He leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “Now tell me, why are you here? Spending your time in the cold bowels of this damned castle talking to a near corpse instead of lying in the arms of your lover?”

Loki stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “He is not my lover.”

Ulf did not seem to be fazed by the cutting tone of the younger man´s voice. “Isn´t he? Then why are you always so eager to run to him when he comes here?”

Loki crossed his arms in front of his chest. He could feel his cheeks starting to burn. “I am not. But he comes so rarely that I usually have something to discuss with him, believe it or not. It has nothing to do with him being my... lover. Don´t drivel on about things you don´t understand, old man.”

Fenris raced past, but neither of them paid the little wolf any heed.

Ulf shrugged. “I meant nothing by it, Loki.” He grinned again. “Though I must say I am surprised the two of you don´t fuck any more. I mean, all the things you could have as the official consort of the – what did you call him? The mightiest king of all the realms? And with the way that he looks at you... I may be old but I am not blind.”

Loki stood abruptly, mouth pulled into a frown. “It is none of your business.” His fists were clenching at his sides. “I bid you good night, old man.”

Ulf shook his head and reached for Loki, his large hand curling around the slighter Jötun`s arm. “My apologies. If you say so then clearly I must be in the wrong.” His eyes glittered. “Though I rarely am. No, no, stay! Sit with me a little longer, former prince of the Jötnar, and lend your ear to one of your oldest subjects. Take pity on me... my ramblings clearly are due to my brain being soft like ice melting to sludge in too-warm water.” He opened his palm in a peaceful gesture. “Talk to me about your plans for the ice houses!” He raised his bushy eyebrow. “Or have I pissed you off enough that you will try it on your own this time?”

Loki sighed, staring down at hunched elder sitting before him. “No. We can talk about the new buildings. It´s what I came down for, after all. But if you speak of Thor again, I _will_ leave.”

Ulf grinned. “Sure. Whatever you say, your majesty. Now what idiocy have you dreamed up for this new project?”

 

x

 

It took almost three months to build the two new ice houses, even though they had more workers at hand. Loki insisted on higher walls, four meters at least, and he wished for the general size of the buildings to be larger as well.

Ulf had thrown up his hands in desperation and cursed the younger Jötun, but Loki did not back down.

It turned out, for all of Ulf´s moaning and bitching, it was possible.

It just took more time.

And time was something Loki had more than enough of.

Once Loki was sure that his wishes were considered and followed, he left the building site to be overseen by the elder master builder.

He had secured Thor´s agreement that he could employ two more farmers for each of the ice houses, and he went to look for them in the very restricted pool of local workers in the capital. Not that there was a lack of Jötnar ; that was not the problem. But most of them were former Alphas, towering above Loki and sneering at the idea of holding a rake or watering can, as if these tasks were somehow below them. Loki considered his choices, knowing that he did not want to look over his shoulder and fear for his and his son´s life every time he passed one of the workers.

Still, he was confident that he would be able find the help he needed.

But for the next buildings, if they were to happen in two years’ time, he would have to go out and find his farmers somewhere in the Icen plains.

Once he had secured the help he needed, Loki spent whole days and weeks magicking spheres and planning the setup and partitioning of the new houses, calculating the labor, light, water and so on. 

It was a lot of work, and to his surprise, he still enjoyed it.

 

x

A year passed.

Ten.

Twenty.

Life was as good as Loki believed it could be, under the circumstances.

Thor continued to visit, sometimes every two years, sometimes as little as every five.

Frigga accompanied him once, clad in thick furs, her blue eyes lighting up when she saw Loki and the little wolf. She hugged Loki tightly and when she bent down to pick up her grandson, he cowered and stayed still, his blue eyes weary as Frigga hugged him to her bossom.  
But he allowed it.

And seeing Frigga was, against all of Loki´s weariness and expectations, suprisingly nice and refreshing as he was, for once, able to discuss how hard it could be, being a mother.

They spent a long evening discussing his work and his magic, how fast his son was growing, and Frigga even tried to talk about his wishes for the future. And while Loki was careful with what he said and did not feel that he could speak as freely as he wished, he very much enjoyed talking to another sorcerer who understood the issues he had been having with various spells.

Still, it was a tense affair, for Loki realized that he still had not forgiven her for the role she had played in his imprisonment. And with the sadness he could read in her eyes, he was sure she realized it.

He was therefore glad when they left once more.

x

Life went on.

x

Many years passed.

x

Loki realized he was, at least in a way, happy with what he had achieved.

He had grown in importance.

He was head of what had grown to be twelve ice houses over the years, and had plans for building more in the villages. He had brought in some of the farmers from beyond the Icen plains to teach them his own knowledge, and while most of them seemed slow or ill fitted to work with plants, a select few did very well and understood quickly what Loki was showing them.  
He made them his head gardeners, to watch over the progress when he was not able to.

And while they still could not feed everyone that hungered, the additional food they harvested was welcome on the tables of Frost Giants and Asgardians alike.

x

Time passed.

The days in the Icen Realm melted into each other, darkness turning into a dusky grey and back again.

Loki picked up a routine, the time he woke in the morning, the walkways he took, the people he spoke to, the things he ate. His son, his magic and the ice houses took up all of his waking moments, and for the moment it was enough.

He was content. 

x

Fenris grew and turned into a healthy wolf much faster than Loki could have imagined.

Within a few decades he reached well past Loki's hips, following him like a dark, furred shadow wherever he went. Loki was sure that if he continued to grow the way he did, he would one day surpass the local Ice Wolves in sheer size and mass.  
It made him proud, strangely enough.

Loki had used his shapeshifting abilities to turn himself into a large wolf a couple of times, to roam the Icen plains with his son, trying to teach him how to hunt to survive in the harsh environment of Jötunheimr – but as he had never used an animal form to stalk or even kill prey he realized he was far out of his depth. But it was soon apparent that Fenris did not need his help. The wolf had a natural ability for stalking and apparently killing, so he did not have to rely on his dam´s well-meant attempts to teach him.

And while Loki tried his best to be close and provide anything that he might want or need, Fenris was independent much faster than he had wished for, roaming the dark hallways and even wandering the Icen plains on his own, on longer and longer treks that left Loki with little else but worry.

Thor, on the other hand, tried his very best to be a good father to his wolf son.

He really did.

The Odinson visited on a yearly basis in the beginning, bringing different types of meats and marrow-filled bones for his son to chew on, sat on the floor as he spoke in a soothing tone, trying to coax the little wolf to come near him. But no matter what he did, Fenris did not take to his father and hid when he scented him; he growled viciously and retreated whenever the tall Asgardian came too close.

Fenris bit his father, again and again, and as the young wolf had become larger and his teeth sharper, Thor frequently needed stitches to close the deep wounds his son left in his wake. 

With those incidents the Odinson´s visits to the Icen Realm became a lot less frequent.

Loki could even understand him. For what was worse than being denied and attacked by one’s own flesh, to be facing fear and vicious anger whenever he faced him?

As the years passed and Fenris grew larger and more powerful, Thor did not attempt to approach him anymore, watching him from a safe distance, a pained yearning on his face.  
His eyes would cloud over when he saw Fenris’ furry shadow disappear around a corner into the darkness, and then would usually force himself to smile at Loki.

His eyes though, they were dead.

Loki felt almost sorry for him.

 

x

 

Another decade passed, and then another.

 

x

 

The day started out like countless ones before it.

A slow rise of the first sun hidden by clouds turned the darkness of the night into a twilight gloom that took over the rest of the day. The winds howled, the Jötnar were in their typical bad, tight-lipped mood and the Asgardians glowered at Loki whenever he passed, staring at him as if he was some kind of dangerous animal that they could not believe had not been muzzled.

Loki followed the routine of his day as he usually did – he had woken rather early in the morning, washed and eaten his gruel, fed and combed his son.  
Then he did his rounds around the ice houses.  
He met with the respective overseers of each house, made comments and suggestions on some of the crops, exchanged ideas, and when he was done made his way to the library to spend the rest of his day reading and contemplating.

His life was not very intriguing, but he liked it that way.

However that particular morning was different.  
And it would change the things to come.

Loki was on his way back from the ice houses, his son bounding and leaping next to him when the young wolf suddenly stopped in his tracks. Fenris´ ears were tilted forward and he huffed out a breath before the fur on his neck rose and he started rumbling low in his throat.

Loki stopped as well, instinctively reaching for his son´s head in a soothing gesture. “What is it, Fenris?” He looked around, but there was nothing he could see.

But then he heard it.

It was a faint sound, nothing he would have picked up by himself over the howling of the storm, but now that he knew what to focus on...

There it was again.

A scream.

Fenris snarled, laying his ears back to the back of his head.

Loki didn´t think. “Where does it come from, Fenris? Find it!” He knew that the wolf´s hearing was far superior to his, and while he could hardly make out the sound he would not be able to point out the direction they would have to move in.

Fenris bolted.

Loki stood frozen to the spot for less than a second before he took off after him.

He followed Fenris around a corner, passing the empty training ground for the soldiers just to see the furred shadow disappear towards the granaries.

Loki passed the little pathway and found himself on a large square where he stopped in his tracks.

The first thing he saw was Fenris, broad-legged, his fur standing on ends. He was snarling at three Asgardian soldiers opposite him who had frozen in place, their swords pointing at the large wolf.

The second thing he saw was a slight Frost Giant cowering on the floor, his hands protectively covering his head. 

“Keep that damned beast away from us!” One of the Asgardians barking the command, staring at Loki. His features were painted with disgust.

Loki stepped closer, lowering his hand once more onto the back of his son to fix him in place. Fenris relaxed ever so slightly, but he continued to growl dangerously.  
“I heard screams! What is going on here?” His crimson eyes were cold with anger as they flicked down to the slender Jötun trembling on the ground between them. The Frost Giant was small even though his horns were straight, and his skin was mostly unblemished and almost clear of the signs of his status, which was unusual for an Alpha...

“That is none of your business!” The leader of the Asgardians was glowering at him, his weapon still raised. His left hand now curled around the horn of the Jötun kneeling at his feet, tugging at it with too much force.  
The Jötun whimpered.

Loki straightened his spine. “I will make it my business. How dare you attack one of my own in the middle of the day? Is this what Asgardian _justice_ has come to? For three soldiers to beat up on someone who is clearly in the disadvantage?”

The Jötun was smaller than them, at least he seemed so down on his knees... Loki´s mind shrieked in alarm at him, but he did not yet understand why.

“You forget your standing, Jötun witch. Asgardians will do their justice as they see fit. And this one, he has stolen from us. He will be held accountable for his crimes.” He gave another sharp tug at the horn of the kneeling Jötun, and the prisoner shakily rose to his feet, the crimson eyes in his pale face large and saucer-like. When he stood he was hardly as tall as the soldiers, or even Loki himself. But his horns, strangely short as they were, were still straight...

Finally Loki understood.

“A child!” Loki blurted out. “He is but a child!” He stared at the small stature of the Alpha, less than two meters tall, and while his cheeks were sunken in with hunger his body still held the soft curves of one not yet fully grown.

Fenris growled next to him, picking up the angered agitation of his dam.

Loki was fuming. “How dare you molest a child?”

The Asgardians exchanged quick glances while the little Giants’eyes were glued to Loki, gleaming with tears. The soldier who had spoken before, a man Loki now recognized as one of Dellingr´s inner circle, stood tall, stepping towards Loki. “He may be a child, but he is still a thief. He stole from us and shall be punished accordingly.”

Loki sneered. “You repeat yourself! What did he steal that is so precious that you treat him like a full-grown, hardened criminal?”

The soldier's mouth tightened and his eyes flicked down to the floor. Loki followed the gaze and noted a small pouch, ripped open, grain spilled onto the snow. He raised his eyebrows, his voice like ice. “You mean to tell me that you are treating this starving child as you do because he stole a little food? Are you serious?”

The soldier fisted his hands and stepped even closer, but when Fenris snarled and stepped between him and his dam, his long claws scratching at the ice, he backed off once more. His eyes sprayed with fury. The soldier’s eyes flicked down to the shivering Jötun who was still bent over, his face grey with fear. He turned back to Loki and raised his weapon a little, his mouth slowly pulling into a wide grin. “Oh aye. I am fully serious. This thief...?” He stared down at the small one. “He shall be beaten and his horns removed. It is the least he deserves.”

A low sob ripped from the child´s mouth, his large eyes rimming with tears that threatened to spill. He was whimpering. “Please, Lords, I beg you, I was hungry, please don't take my horns, please, please...”

Loki's heart went up in flames at the little one pleading so pitifully.

They were Frost Giants.  
A proud race.  
No one should have brought that child to a point where he would _beg_. Especially not an Asgrdian! That was not who they were!

It was hard to suppress the rage that flooded his core, one so bright that it wanted him to send out his fire, burn those damn Asgardians to a smoldering crisp... Loki curled his hands into fists, concentrating on the sharp pain of his fingernails digging into the soft skin of his palm. His voice was surprisingly calm when he spoke. “He is a child. Nothing more. Maybe you should consider being merciful in this case.”

The soldiers let out a laugh, reaching backward and gave a sharp tug at his prisoners horn, snapping the Jötun´s head to the side. “Should I? Why, you know something, witch, it is not up to me to decide to be merciful. It is up to Dellingr!” An unsavory smile spread his lips.

Loki grit his teeth.

Well, damn.

If the administrator found out that Loki had been pleading for this child to be spared... mercy would be the last thing they would be able to expect from him.

Loki pushed back his shoulders. “I shall speak to him.”

The soldier grinned as the pulled the sobbing child towards the entrance to the castle. “You do that, Jötun. Try your best.”

x

 

Ten lashes.

Loki was storming through the hallways, his heart burning with unholy anger. He had spoken to Dellingr to demand for the child to be released.

It had been in vain.  
Of course.

The administrator had been smiling at him cruelly and had turned his request down with well-placed insults.

The ten lashes Loki could even understand.  
It was a harsh punishment for one so young, but in a realm that was starving for one to steal food... Loki had known that the penalty would be more severe than in the times of plenty.  
He could even understand it.

What drove Loki mad, however, was that Dellingr was going to remove the upper third of the left horn of the young Alpha, a visible reminder and warning to all others not to steal from Asgard.

Loki had asked for mercy, even offering to take the punishment himself – he loved his horns but he did not need them to signify his standing – but Dellingr had turned him down with a harsh laugh. “I am not going to disfigure the king´s plaything!” Then the Asgardian had smiled wickedly, his eyes narrowing. “Though I am not sure he would care; after all the word is that has not touched you since you birthed that monster that you call a son.”

Loki had felt his blood rise to his cheeks, turning him a darker blue than he usually was. Holding his tongue was hard work. But he knew one thing: It would not have done the little one any favors.

So he had swallowed his anger and collected his wits, listening to the Jötun child beg as he hung between the arms of two soldiers.  
His heartbreaking cries still echoed in Loki`s ears as he had left the throne room.

He was cursing the empty room as he went through one of his large clothing chests, rummaging through it with little care, pulling out outfit after outfit. He needed something light, something that was meant to be worn in the warmth, not in the harsh winter of the Icen realm.

He would have to go to Asgard on the child´s behalf.

Loki held out a pair of thin, almost see-through billowy pants, heavily embroidered.  
Images and memories flashed in his mind, swamping it.  
He knew Thor liked them. Remembered how his eyes had sparkled when Loki wore them, the compliments that he had offered.

Loki did not hesitate: he pulled them on as he continued to spit profanities of the worst kind.

He did not want to go.  
He really didn't.  
But he knew there was no way around it.

It was either him pleading with Thor or for the child to loose part of his horn.

There was no in-between.

He was going to Asgard.


	39. Asgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all  
> So I am not sure why, but this was a bitch of a chapter. In the end I had 15 (!) drafts, while usually I have no more than 9. This chapter more or less is one long conversation, and it took me forever to get it to flow the way I wanted to. But I think I finally got it...  
> Thanks, once more, for my patient beta uluka to take the time to check for mistakes, she is an absolute star! 
> 
> I do have one request for this chapter – when you comment – please don't jump to conclusions of where you think the story is going to go. Because you don´t know. You have not read it yet. And as I like to think that I take the road less traveled, you might just be wrong. So please don't complain where I take my story when you have not even read where I take my story. Because it is going to be awesome. Which makes me excited. Don´t sully my excitement by bitching and moaning about something I have not posted yet .  
> It is a bit of a turn-off. 
> 
> That being said...hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> x

Being pulled through the Bifröst back to Asgard came as a shock to all of Loki´s senses.  
The heat, the brightness of the suns, the thickness of the warm air were overwhelming... Loki exhaled, the cold, crisp air of Jötunheimr leaving his lungs just to be replaced by cloying heat that was choking him. 

Loki heaved a breath, closing his eyes as he found the ground underneath his feet.  
He remembered what it had been like the very first time he had landed here, nothing more but a small boy surrounded by large Warriors watching over him.

Then fear had made him numb.

How different his situation was now.

The Keeper of the Bifröst, the dark Golden One stared at Loki with his yellow eyes, his face a mask that offered not the slightest emotion. Behind him stood two soldiers who stepped up to Loki the moment he seemed able to stand on his own two feet. “Lord, will you come with us?”

Dellingr must have sent a letter or a message, informing them of his arrival.

All the better.

That would mean that Thor knew he was coming.

Loki straightened his spine and nodded, following them into the capital.

 

x

 

The soldiers led him to a small audience room in the guest wing of the immense castle.

Loki stayed silent as he stepped into the room, watching as the soldiers left, as they closed the double-breasted, tall doors behind themselves.

He took a look around.

The chamber he had been brought to was rather small, the dark, wooden table able to seat no more than maybe six people at the most. The walls were hung with tapestries depicting battles of ancient wars, and when he raised his eyes he was faced with a painting of a life-sized Odin fighting in the sky, his single eye blazing.

Loki shuttered, lowering his eyes once more.

A tray holding two pitchers stood on a small side-table, and Loki took a mug and poured himself a measure of cold, clear water. Thick pearls of sweat were running down his back, sliding down along the knobs of his spine, slowly, almost leisurely.  
He had almost forgotten how uncomfortably hot this realm really was.  
How unpleasantly cloying.

He sat down on one of the surprisingly comfortable cushioned chairs and took a sip of the water, rubbing his hand along his forehead, grimacing when it slid wetly along his skin.

He raised his head when there was a low knock on the door.

A moment later Thor entered.

Loki stood.

Thor was dressed in a light tunic and a pair of light brown pants, a golden leather breastplate strapped to his chest. His hair was slightly disheveled and his cheeks burned by the sun. There was dirt on his knees and fine sand clung to his boots; his brow had a fine sheen of fresh sweat that explained the wave of warm musk that wafted towards Loki - he must have come straight from the training area.

Loki swallowed, ignoring the faint hint of interest that was rising from the bottom of his stomach.  
Instead he lifted his chin and offered a curt nod.

Thor stopped in front of him, his sharp blue eyes fixed upon Loki´s red ones. His mouth pulled into a smile. “Loki. How are you?”

Loki inclined his head. “I am well, I thank thee. How about yourself?”

Thor nodded, poured himself a mug of water and emptied it with a couple of large gulps. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then poured himself and Loki a cup of mead each before he sat down.  
He pushed the mead towards Loki, who accepted it with a nod of thanks, and took a small sip.

Thor watched him closely, then spoke once more. “Tell me, Loki, to what do I owe the pleasure of your very first visit?”

Loki played with his cup, watching as the golden liquid twirled in lazy circles. “I am sure you received a letter from Dellingr explaining the situation, have you not?”

If the soldiers had known he was coming, the administrator probably wrote a message.  
It was not a far leap.

Thor smiled. “That I have. It was a rather colorful, angry letter on top of that. But I am sure that the account of whatever may have happened will be different when told by you.”

Loki nodded. That much was true.

“There has been an incident.”

Thor took another sip of mead, leaned back. “An incident?”

Loki inclined his head. “Yes. Your soldiers caught a child taking food from the granaries.”

Thor frowned. “You mean to say that he _stole_ from the granaries.”

Loki huffed out a breath. “I mean to say that a starving youngling took what was not his in order to survive. Dellingr has already beaten him, and now he means to cut off part of his left horn on top of that.” Loki leaned forward, staring at Thor intently. “That cannot be! It is too harsh a penalty for such a small misconduct.”

Thor hummed. “The penalty for stealing is, I am sure, well known throughout the realm: If I remember correctly it does not differ much from what Laufey-king used to do.” He eyed Loki carefully. “I am not sure I understand your issue with this.”

Loki growled, kneaded his fingers into his lap. “First of all, you always told me that you would rule Jötunheimr differently to my father, so it surprises me that you would compare yourself to him.” Loki paused for effect, saw Thor´s mouth thinning. “Second of all, my issue with this is that the boy is so very young, Thor! A child still, with no future and no one to lean upon. Don´t you think that enough of us have lost our horns already? You are marking him for life for half a pouch of grain.”

Thor sighed, pushed his hand through his hair. “Is he a Warrior?”

Loki stared at him. “Yes. He is of the Warrior caste.” He admitted. “Mages are... they used to be rare, now they are more or less extinct.”

Thor fixed him with a long stare Loki could not decipher. Then the Odinson shook his head slowly. “I am sure he knew of the consequences that his actions would lead to. And if he is to keep his horns it may turn him into a dangerous enemy in the future.”

Loki scowled. “If you take the horns of the young one, then he will grow up hating Asgard, have no doubt about that! You don´t want the next generation to despise you as much as the current one does.” Loki leaned back, his eyes sparkling. “You may have always been an idiot, Thor, but you were never cruel. And taking a child's horns would be exactly that. Needless cruelty. That´s not who you are.”

Thor blinked. “Is that your way of sweet-talking me, Loki? I really don't think that insulting me is the way to get what you want, do you?”

Loki calmly studied the Odinson. “I am not insulting you, I am just stating a fact. You are not a cruel king. You are just and you are kind to people that are not your enemies. And this child, he did not go to war against you. He did not stand and fight you or your soldiers – he was probably still nursing on his mother’s teat when you took down Útgarðar. This boy, he has the misfortune of being born in the wrong time at the wrong place! He hungered and hurt, so he took some food. I am sure you would have done the same if you had been in his position. So I ask you, Thor, to show him mercy.”

Thor took a deep breath. His face was solemn. “What about others? Should everyone who takes from Asgard simply get away with it in the future? Because they are too young, or old, or poor, or whatever excuse they have? Simply because you come here and ask for it?”

Loki snorted, shook his head. “Believe me, I am not going to make this a habit. And I see grown-ups punished every other day, as fair or not as that may be. But we are not talking about a hardened Warrior here. We are talking about a young boy. And he has been beaten already. Leave it at that!”

Thor hummed. “Well, according to Dellingr that thief you speak about is not a child but a simple runt. He wrote that he stands just as tall as you and his own men.”

Loki´s forehead furrowed and he grunted in disgust. “Dellingr is an idiot. No surprise there. He probably has never even seen an adolescent Jötun. There are no Warrior runts, at least not that small. Yes, he may be as tall as me, but that does not mean that he is not young. He might grow to be four meters or taller one day.”

Thor nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, I can honestly say that I am glad you are not of the Warrior caste then. If you had grown to be more than four meters tall... I don´t think I would have enjoyed that much.”

Loki caught a glimpse of the Odinson´s large grin.  
Had that been a joke?  
He quirked an eyebrow as he answered dryly. “Well, it would have been a whole lot harder for you to bed me, that´s for sure.”

Thor snorted. “I am not sure I would have wanted to bed you at all if you had been that size.”

All of a sudden Loki felt indignation bubble up inside him, and it made him angry, livid even that they would joke about something like this. But then the moment passed and the image of himself, towering above the Odinson and the smaller man trying to mount him...  
What a ridiculous picture the idea painted in his head.

Loki could not suppress the hint of a smile.  
Thor beamed back at him, then he shifted in his seat, took another sip of mead.

When he placed the cup on the table he was serious once more. “Well, I thank you for bringing this to my attention, but I won´t be able to make a decision right now.” He looked up, his blue eyes weary. “Understand, Loki, that rules are there for a reason, as are punishments. And they apply to everyone equally. I will have to consider your request.”

Loki leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “Of course. And I am not telling you to stop punishing those who do wrong. It is your right to implement justice on my people as you see fit. We have lost a war against you, and such is the right of the victor. But the young one, he is of a new generation. Show him and others that Asgard is a mighty country and horrible in its anger, but that it also has the ability to be compassionate. He is not going to learn mercy or forgiveness from his own people, not while roaming the streets, starving. As I said before, Thor. You are not that kind of man.”

Thor stared at him for a long moment, his jaw working. Then he pulled his mouth into a small smile. “By the Norns, Loki, I almost forgot that you wield your tongue like a mighty soldier a sword cutting down his enemies.”

Loki shrugged. “It is my way of fighting. And I am happy to use it if it makes a difference.”

Thor laughed quietly, took another sip of mead. “I can see that.” The eyes of the Odinson drifted towards the window, and he stared outside, eyes unfocused. His next words were unexpected. “Would you walk with me?”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Walk?”

Thor shrugged. “It is beautiful today. The cherry trees are blooming, or at least so I heard. I have not had the time to go out for a leisurely stroll for a long while. So many demands to deal with lately.” He took another sip of his mead, then set down his mug carefully, fingers playing with the rim. “A walk in the gardens, nothing else. We could talk some more. Discuss this issue and any others you may have.” He studied Loki, his face unreadable: “Of course only if it is your wish. Otherwise I can ask the guards to take you back to the Bifröst.”

Loki hesitated.

He wanted to turn the offer down, get up and leave.

He really did.

But he realized that if he stayed and had the chance to talk to Thor a little longer – there were many things still left unspoken.  
Important things.  
Issues he _needed_ to talk about.

Loki looked up, noting that Thor was still staring at him. He gave a curt nod. “Sure. A walk. Though I don't think I will stay for too long.”

Thor´s mouth broadened into a smile. “Of course.” He stood. “Come.”

Loki followed Thor through a long hallway until they reached a more familiar area of the castle. He was not surprised when Thor turned a corner and opened a small door that led to the outside.  
They stepped right into the royal gardens, greeted by the brightness of midday, and Loki blinked and took a moment to collect himself.

Memories immediately flooded his mind – pictures and emotions, all tied to this garden, all anchored deep within himself.

The feeling of careful content when he was nothing but a child.  
The darkness of sorrow and anger that came with the loss of freedom as a spoil of war.  
The careful blooming of hope that had been part of his pregnancy.

Loki swallowed, closed his eyes. 

No.  
No more.

Today was different.

He was a guest.

Not a peace-hostage.  
Not a prisoner of war.  
Not a consort.

A guest.

Thor did not seem to notice that Loki had stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed by his past. He continued walking, and just before he reached a small, overgrown gate he stopped and turned, his eyebrows raised when he realized Loki had not been following him.  
His voice was slightly concerned as he approached him again. “Is everything all right?”

Loki took a deep breath and then forced himself to nod. “Of course. It´s just...the heat. I am not used to it anymore.”

Thor nodded, looking sympathetic. “I remember. You never liked the warmth. We can stay in the shade if it makes it any easier for you.”

Loki nodded and took another deep breath.  
Then he walked up to Thor, following him deeper into the labyrinth of the gardens. They strolled in silence for a while, the only sounds the ones of nature around them.

They passed a small garden and another, and only then did Thor turn towards Loki, his face soft and open. “So, tell me, Loki. How is life in Jötunheimr? How is the food distribution going?”

Loki´s eyes roamed his lush surroundings, chewing on his lips. He had forgotten how _fertile_ Asgard was in comparison to Jötunheimr, how noisy and _alive_. He felt crushed by the blinding colors, the myriads of sounds – the humming of insects, rustling of leaves, the heavy, earthy smells of the thick moss mixing with the overpowering aroma of the different flowers in full bloom – for someone whose palate had gotten used to the fresh taste of cold air and silence save for the monotonous howling of the storm, it was a lot to handle.  
He shook his head, staring at Thor with burning red eyes. “Do you not have that bloodhound of yours keeping you up to date? Does he not already tell you what is happening?” He snapped.

Thor blinked at the outburst, forehead furrowing in confusion. He lifted his hands palms outwards, his voice careful. “Peace, Loki. I mean nothing by it, I was just making conversation.”

Loki´s stomach turned into a knot – he had not wanted to react like this, had not meant to show his inner turmoil in such a way. He cleared his throat, rubbed his hand over his forehead. He grimaced when he slid through copious amounts of sweat, flicked droplets to the floor. “Apologies. The heat... As I said, I am not used to it anymore.”

Thor slowed his steps, reached down to pull a flask from his belt and offered it to Loki. “Would you care for some mead?”  
Loki hesitated only for a moment. “Thank you.” The mead was cool, and the alcohol burned satisfyingly in his stomach, calming his frayed nerves, if ever so slightly.

He took another sip, then passed the flask back to Thor, nodding his appreciation.

Thor took a drink himself, then pushed the flask back into his belt.  
They continued walking, slower now.

Loki sighed. He was feeling slightly better.

He realized that Thor was silent next to him. He was still waiting for an answer to his question.  
Loki took a deep breath, staring ahead as he spoke. “I guess Jötunheimr is as it always was - cold, harsh, unwelcoming.” He quirked a small smile when Thor chuckled next to him. “At least the crops are growing well – we are figuring out more and more what each plant needs. I am now trying to introduce ice houses in the farming villages, though not all of the Jötnar are open for new ideas.” He shook his head, frowned. “Actually almost none of them are. I have tried getting the locals to work with me in two separate places, and they are reluctant to even discuss the idea.” Loki sighed. “But I will figure it out.”

Thor´s voice was soft. “Of course you will. You always do. I must say I am not surprised that things are good, for my _bloodhound_ , as you call him, has not been complaining about you as much as he used to. From that I already gathered that everything must be going rather well indeed.” Thor´s voice softened. “I am glad for you, Loki.”

Loki´s pride bristled ever so slightly at the intimate tone, but he had learned to take a compliment when it was given. They were rare enough, after all. He did not meet Thor´s eyes, continued to stare ahead. “Thank you.” He said simply.

They had reached the garden where a large circle of flowers, bushes and trees kept track of the passing of time – hours, days, months, years painted in vivid colors of fragile blossoms. They stood in silence for a moment, Loki´s toes curling into the soft moss underneath him. He took a deep breath, the air hot and humid, tasting sweet with pollen. But there was another smell underneath it, of salt and ozone, rich and musky the way only the Odinson could smell. Loki felt blood rise in his face as interest curled in his stomach, brightened his cheeks.

He swallowed hard.

He glanced to the side, noting that Thor seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the purple flowers that had opened before them. For a moment he stared at the blond strands that were blown over his shoulder by a gust of wind, how the sun turned them into threaded gold, gleaming...  
He ripped his gaze away.

What in all the worlds?

His throat was dry. Suddenly he wished that he had not stayed.

Thor had realized that Loki had been looking at him once more, and he offered a short nod. Then he smiled and turned, leading him onto a small pathway deeper into the labyrinth of the gardens. Loki focused on his surroundings, on the soft moss underneath his toes. The small pathway they had taken was lovely, bushes with small, white flowers growing up into the sky, bees and small birds, colorful like jewels and quick as lightening drinking from their cup-like blossoms.

However, whenever he raised his eyes he stared at the Odinson´s broad back, how the muscles played in his thick arms, the curve of his behind...  
Loki´s heart was beating a heavy drum.  
He felt panic rising at the emotions that were racing through his veins, thick and heavy like the air around him. So, to distract himself, he opened his mouth and said the next-best thing that came to his mind. “The child is an orphan, you know.”

Thor cast him a quick glance, waited for Loki to continue. 

Loki took a deep breath. Yes, this worked well to distract himself. “There are rumours. Rumours of children who roam the villages alone or in small groups in the search of food.”

Thor´s brow furrowed. “Children, alone? Why would no one take care of them?”

Loki shrugged, took another deep breath as he focused on the path in front of him. “You know that many died during the war, Alphas and Ergis alike. Which means that some children became orphans. And food has always been scarce.” Loki wiped his forehead again, thick droplets of sweat sliding over his temples. “No one wants to feed a hungry mouth when they can hardly feed themselves. There are even stories that some of the Ergis, starving and alone, abandoned their babes.”

Thor growled in anger. “What kind of mother would abandon her child?”

Loki pressed his lips together. He lifted his head, staring at the Odinson with cold eyes. “The kind of mother who has no food to eat and therefore has no milk left in her teat. The mother who feels it cruel to watch her child starve slowly. The mother who realizes that an adolescent will eat more than she will ever be able to offer him. So instead she gives her child what she would have believed to be mercy: to abandon him in the snow, for the Icen ghosts to take him away.” Loki went silent for a moment. “Apparently the death by freezing is a painless one. It is the death chosen for the innocent, for it is merciful.”

“Merciful!” Thor spat out the word, disgusted. His cheeks were burning with red dots. “It´s barbaric! To kill one´s own child is the worst crime there is!”

Loki snorted. “Well, the Icen realm is a cruel, barbaric place, now as much as it has been since the thousand-year war. The strong survive, and the young and old, the _weak_ , they suffer and they die. For at the moment, if you wish to eat in Jötunheimr, you have to work. It is the kind of place you have built, Odinson. That is your kingdom.”

Thor had stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief. “What are you saying, Loki?”

Loki stopped next to him, did not evade the burning gaze. His voice was cool. “I am saying that it is not a good time to be a Jötun, Thor, it is as simple as that. The strong work like slaves, keeping their head down and do as they are told so as not to feel the kiss of the whip on their backs! And still they do often enough, for the Asgardians do not show pity or understanding when it comes to former Jötnar Warriors.” He lifted his hands when he noted Thor opening his mouth to protest. “As I said before, it is fine. It is the ancient right of the victor to enslave the loser, and I will not fight you in this.” His crimson eyes took on a dangerous sparkle. “But Dellingr, he is not the kind of man to see shortcomings if they slapped him in the face. I have brought up the issue of the weak not having enough food, and he told me that Útgarðar, the capital, was no place for Ergis and children. And he ignored that the problems persists in the rest of the realm. The only thing he cares about it to rebuild Útgarðar, and keep the former Warriors in check.” Loki shrugged helplessly. “If that child had come begging for food the chances are good that he might have been thrown out. And that, Thor, is a problem!”

Slowly they started walking again, side by side, now along a stone wall reaching far into the sky on their right.

Thor shook his head. “I see.” He looked up, stared at Loki. “That kind of behavior... it was never my intention.”

Loki softened when he noted how distressed Thor looked. He raised his hand, let his fingers glide along the cool stone to his right. “Of course not. As I said, you may be an idiot, but at least you are kind-hearted. I believe that you place your trust in people whose hearts are not as righteous as yours. And Jötunheimr is a place of the strong and powerful, where compassion is a rare commodity.”

Thor nodded, pushing his hand through his hair. He looked unhappy.

Loki was about to open his mouth when the Odinson stopped in his tracks.

The Jötun was taken by surprise by the unexpected halt and he raised his eyes, not having taken care of what path they were following so far, too focused on their discussion.  
He let out a low hiss when he realized where Thor had taken him.

In front of him was the entrance to a small cave, the dark interior looking welcoming, cool and wet with moisture.

Loki blinked rapidly, memories rushing back into his mind. This...this had been his refuge during his time in Asgard, what had then felt like his own, secret garden. He took a deep breath as pictures of the past occupied his mind for a long moment.  
When he spoke again he could not keep the dangerous snarl from his voice. “What in all the realms are we doing here, Thor?”

The Odinson looked eyed his with his large, blue eyes. He shrugged. “It used to be your favourite spot. I thought... I just thought you might want to revisit it.”

Loki grit his teeth. “Of course I remember, my brain has not gone soft, after all. But maybe I did not wish to come here.” Sweat pearled on his forehead and slid down his back. He realized that a small fire was burning in the bottom of his stomach, and this thoughtful gesture had kindled it once more.

Thor hesitated. “My apologies. I should have asked you.”

“Yes. You should have!” They stood and stared at each other for several heartbeats.

Then Thor cleared his throat. “Do you wish us to leave?”

Loki felt like snarling. His brain screamed at him to take the offer and go back, take the Bifröst back home, burrow himself into his cool pillows and bury his body´s confusing emotions in the depth of his mind.  
But there was one more thing he wanted to discuss.  
And he was so close...  
“No. We can stay.” He glowered best as he could, his hands fisted at his sides. “But I do not appreciate you taking me here without asking.” 

Thor looked ashamed. “Of course, my apologies. I won´t do it again.”

Loki nodded and then eyed the small entrance.  
With a huff he turned and stepped into the cool cave. His feet followed the small path that snaked its way among the dark, slick stones, and after just a couple of steps the already saw the tell-tale light of the exit. Just a moment later he stepped out into the small, hidden garden, stepping from cool stones onto soft grass.

Loki stopped.  
Right in front of him the galaxy spread out into eternity.  
He took a deep breath, staring out into the wide open, allowing the vastness of the universe embrace him, calm him.

A pang of misplaced nostalgia hit him, right in the chest.

He used to love coming here.

This was a place where he had felt closer to home and at the same time small, insignificant.

Without hesitation he stepped into the small stream that gurgled between the patches of soft grass, sighing in relief when the cold water washed around his legs, cooling his feverish body.

He noted that Thor had followed him into the small clearing, and without a second of hesitation Loki stepped up to the edge and sat down, pushing his feet over the border where Asgard ended. Thor joined him only a few moments later, his booted feet dangling next to Loki´s naked blue ones, suspended in nothingness.

They sat for a moment in silence when the Odinson calmly pulled the small flask of mead from his belt and offered it to Loki.

Loki accepted it, took a drink, handed it back.

“I like this place.” He mused. “I always feel like I could spit eternity on the head.”

Thor smiled.

Loki continued. “My issues, the _world’s_ issues, no matter how big they were, always seemed small, insignificant in comparison.”

The Odinson´s smile flickered and then faded. He turned his head, staring out into the galaxies in front of them. “Problems always seem much smaller, when looked at from a distance.”

Loki looked over, grinned. “Wise words from your mouth.”

Thor shrugged. His eyes were dark, troubled. “What I mean to say is that it bothers me that I was not aware of the issues Jötunheimr has been facing. I find this... concerning.”

Loki shrugged, swinging his feet. “That´s why I am telling you about them now.”

Thor hummed thoughtfully. “Yes. That you did.” He shifted, stared over at Loki, studying him. “It sounded like you had been giving this a lot of thought.”

Loki shrugged again. He focused on a galaxy straight in front of them, its magnificent colours, red and green and yellow twirling in and around each other. “I guess I have.”

Thor took another sip of mead. “Yes. And that makes me wonder... Did you really come to me only to speak about a single child who is to lose his horn in a punishment that has been implemented for millennia? That does not seem like you.”

Loki turned his head to look straight into the stormy blues of Thor.  
He saw no reason to lie. “No.” He said simply.

Thor sighed. “Of course not.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, then clawed them into the crumbling earth of the edge beneath them. “Well, go on then, Loki. Tell me what really brought you here.”

Loki raised his chin ever so slightly.  
Now was as good a time as any to bring this up.  
“I want to build a school.”

Thor blinked, opened his mouth, closed it again. “A school?” He asked dumbly.

Clearly he had not been expecting that.  
Well, Loki was always happy to surprise.

He returned the gaze from blue eyes calmly. He nodded. “Yes. A school. For orphans and abandoned children. Or an orphanage, if you so will. Though schooling is really the most important part.”

Thor shook his head. He looked confused. “I was not expecting that. I thought you wanted me to get rid of Dellingr.”

Loki smiled softly. “Of course, if you could do that as well, that would be splendid. But I doubt that that is something you would consider simply because I complain about him. After all, he does a lot of things well, as much as he fucks up many other things. He is good at organization and excellent at keeping the Jötnar from revolting, and that is really what you need, isn´t it?” Loki shook his head. “No, I would not waste my time asking for things I know you are not willing to change. But a school... that you could do for me.”

“I...” Thor looked dumbfounded. “This is a bit of a surprise.”

Loki nodded. “I am sure it is.”

Thor was quiet for a long while next to him, and Loki stayed silent. He knew that he had sprung the idea on the Odinson without a warning, but he had been thinking about this issue for a long while.  
To speak about it now felt as good a time as any.

So Loki waited, patiently.

He once more focused on the eternity in front of him, allowing the vastness to lull him into something resembling peace and content.  
He took a deep breath.  
And another.  
A soft breeze played around his nostrils, and he opened his eyes, stiffening. The wind was carrying the spicy, musky smell of ozone and heated earth towards him, like a siren call beckoning him to lean in and press his nose against hot skin and just _breathe_. Again a horrible, unwanted yearning blossomed in Loki’s stomach, and he fought it down with all his might.

He was glad when Thor spoke once more. “You would need teachers.”

Loki cleared his throat. “Yes, I would. But for the beginning I believe I could teach a bulk of the classes myself – the ice houses are finally running smoothly and I have more than enough time on my hands.”

Thor looked at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You?

Loki shrugged. “In the beginning... why not? I have a lot of knowledge I would be happy to share – I can teach writing and reading of the Olden Tongue, I understand calculus, I know the basics of star systems, of poetry and philosophy – there is much I learned in Asgard that I would be happy to pass on.” He took a breath. “Ulf would make a good teacher as well. He could give classes about geography, about Icen architecture and could even set up practical lessons on how to build with ice and snow. One of my gardeners is particularly bright and well spoken, he could take the kids to the ice houses to teach them the basics in gardening, speak about different crops and some facts on the local plant life.” Loki straightened his shoulders. “I don't have many resources, but we could make do. We would just have to be inventive.”

Thor pulled the little flask of mead from his belt once more and took a long swig before he passed it on. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then sighed deeply before he continued. “Where did you plan to build this school of yours?”

Loki laughed softly as he accepted the mead. “That would be the least of my problems. Útgarðar is enormous, and within the castle whole wings are empty due to the lack of people. I have my eye on a couple of rooms on the fourth floor of the East wing that would suit my needs. We would be out of the way and not disturb anybody. And there is enough space for a class room, a dormitory, wash- and break rooms and more.” He took a small sip and then another before giving Thor back his flask.

“Of course you already know where you want to set it up.” Thor muttered, lost in thought. “What else will you need? Extra food? Furniture? Clothing? Books? Writing materials?”

Loki pushed an errant strand of hair behind his ear, untangling it with his fingers.  
This was something he had not fully considered as of yet.  
But he knew it would potentially be a fair amount of things he would need.  
“All of that and probably more. I don´t have a list as of yet.” He looked down, his fingers rubbing over the old gold bracelets that were lying heavy on his skin. He slipped them off without another moment of hesitation. “I know that there will be costs that you had not considered for Jötunheimr´s budget, and I do not wish to impose more than I already am.” He straightened his arm, offering the thick, golden rings to Thor, who in turn was staring at him. “They are made of Icen gold and ivory from the Great Beasts. I believe them to be rare and rather precious. I would ask you to sell them for me – the price you could get should be enough to get me at least started.

Thor´s brow furrowed, he started at Loki´s offering as if it was something unsavory. “I do not wish for you to give up your jewelry, Loki.”

Loki did not lower his hand. “I made a request and I want to contribute. These are my people. It was my idea. I will carry at least part of the costs.”

Thor shook his head “No, Loki. First of all, I will need to think on this proposal of yours. I shall not make a decision on the spot on something like this.” Loki slowly lowered his hands, the golden bracelets resting heavily in his palm. Thor was still staring at him. “Hold on to them – you never know when you might need them.”

Loki hesitated for a moment, then slipped the rings back on. His face did not betray his emotions. ”As you wish. Just remember that my offer stands. I would not wish the lack of money to get in the way of educating children.”

Thor hummed low in this throat.

After that neither of them spoke.

They simply sat and stared into eternity, side by side.  
For a long time.

x

Later in the day, as the suns started setting, Loki went home.

Thor had asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner, to join Thor to share some of the specialties that he had been missing, as they were hard to come by in Jötunheimr.

Loki had declined.

His stomach by then was a heavy knot of inner turmoil.

He was not hungry, either way.

So he said his goodbyes, ignoring Thor's disappointment, and left.

x

Loki landed in Jötunheimr, his feet digging into hard snow as he arrived through the flash of the Bifröst. The heat that had surrounded him was immediately replaced by freezing cold, the storm whipping his hair around his face, pulling at his cape as if it wanted to undress him. The warmth that had been in his lungs left with his next exhale, and then he sucked freezing air.

He was back home.

Loki closed his eyes for a moment and took another deep breath, trying to quell the confusing emotions that were clawing at his brain. His body and mind – they had reacted to Thor in a way he had not foreseen – he had flushed hot whenever he had caught a glimpse of a thickly muscled arm, smelled the spicy musk that wafted through the air, hardly suppressed by all the other scents that had drifted around him.  
He was still carrying that heat inside of him.  
Loki snorted, rubbed his hand over his face.

Ridiculous.

And in no way that was going to happen.

He gathered his cape around his shoulders and started the long trek back to the capital.

x

 

x

 

That night Loki went into heat.


	40. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my lovely readers. Sorry for taking so long this time. But between writers-block, my birthday, Pride and general life happening... excuses, excuses, I know. Well at least I am trying to make it up to you because this is one of the longest chapters of the story, roughly it is about a third longer than my usual chapters (at roughly 10,000 words), so I hope you forgive me.  
> Also not betad this time... did not want you to wait for another week. 
> 
> Enjoy. And remember, kudos and comments are love!
> 
>  
> 
> x

That following night and day seemed to last forever. 

Loki's body yielded to the onslaught of hormones sweeping through him, and he spend what seemed like endless hours tossing and turning in his too large bed. He shivered as small waves of fever washed through his limbs, a strange, pulsating sensation that radiated from his inner core

Familiar.   
Unwanted. 

Whenever he closed his eyes images of the Odinson invaded his mind – the gleam of pink flesh and the shine of golden hair, the flash of a smile, the sparkling of blue eyes. Loki imagined he could still smell the musk that had pulled him in like a siren call, heavy and rich, making his mouth waster with need. His heart beat a heavy tattoo, pulsating behind his temples, in his cunt, in his throbbing cock. 

Loki shivered with desire as his own body had its way with him.   
He clawed his fingers into the soft furs as he rubbed himself against them, quietly weeping for touch, yearning for more when only his own, tentative fingers slid inside himself. 

His body _ached._  
And it ached for Thor.

When he was finally exhausted enough to slip into sleep his dreams were vivid, a cacophony of his own desires. Thor was towering above him, his golden locks falling onto raven strands, blue fingers clawing into pink flesh as they moved against each other. He imagined he could feel Thor driving into him again and again as his own legs curled around a narrow waist, feelings, sensations all crashing over him, pulling him under. 

He was drowning in his own need. 

Loki drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes whimpering quietly, sometimes loudly calling his lover's name, over and over, heard by no one but the thick ice walls around him. 

Fenris was pacing beside his bed as he watched over the fretful sleep of his dam, whining in confusion, licking Loki's feverish face without bringing him any comfort. 

The heat lasted a whole night and a whole day. 

Then it finally broke.

This time when Loki slipped into exhausted sleep once more, his dreams were thankfully empty.

 

x

 

Loki slept through the night and day to come. 

When he woke the first of the suns was just starting to set, darkening the grey gloom of what Jötunheimr called daylight. Loki blinked his eyes open, groaning under his breath as he raised his right hand, his fingers slipping over slick, tepid skin. 

He had a throbbing headache. 

He dug his fingers into his temples, his mouth dry and tacky, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.   
He needed water. 

Loki could not suppress a cough, and the involuntary movement that jolted his body lit an ache deep inside of him, digging into his core, his cunt throbbing for a moment before it died back down.

He froze, took a deep, weary breath.

His fingers curled into his sheets and he took a careful look around, noting that his bed was a mess, as if he had trashed and turned for hours. The insistent throbbing in his head made him grit his teeth, and he slid his fingers over his forehead, sticky with old sweat.

Images and memories of the past days slowly came back to him, bubbling to the surface from the bottom of what had been a feverish mind. 

Loki swallowed painfully.

Heat.   
He had been in heat. 

He stared up at the ceiling as the pictures of his suppressed desires flashed in front of him once more, less vivid than a day ago, but still strong enough to make his cock twitch with interest. Bitter panic rose in his throat and washed into his mouth, and he squeezed his eyes shut as not to gag in horror. He curled to the side and into himself, grimacing when the furs beneath him stuck to him wetly, saturated with his own juices. His fingers ran over his limbs and forehead, but he was, as far as he could tell, back to his normal temperature. 

Loki stayed for a long moment, just breathing, cataloguing the aches and pains of his body.  
He was weary, tired and thirsty. 

And yet he remembered.  
How badly he had ached.   
And that he had ached for _Thor._

How could this have happened?

He had only _spoken_ to Thor, after all!  
Those few fleeting touches, the shared laughter and the smell of sun-warmed flesh hardly justified his body vibrating with the need he had felt? 

And why now?  
He had met the Odinson again and again over the last couple of months and years, and nothing ever happened!

None of this made any sense!

Loki groaned under his breath when he moved again. His whole body resisted him when he pushed himself to his hands, shivering with strain. He had to get up, he needed water, above all else. He carefully peeled himself out of the soaked linen and placed his feet on the cold floor, waiting for his hammering headache to decline. 

More thoughts, more worries invaded his mind, bitter and unwanted.   
They made him shiver, claw his fingers into his thighs with dread. 

For after all... what if the heat was not over?  
What if this was just the eye of the storm, before it took over his mind and body once more, forced him into a full bout where he begged an Alpha, any Alpha to mount him?

What then?

He chewed on his lip as he continued to struggle with the implications. Memories of his last time tormented him, pictures of him writhing on the floor, calling for Thor, again and again until he had lost all touch with reality. Then he would have begged anyone to fuck him just to relieve him of his pain.   
Anyone.

Loki clenched his hands into fists, took a deep, shuddering breath. 

No.   
That was not going to happen. 

He took another breath and then another, in and out, in and out, trying to quell the black panic that seeped into his brain and made him gag for air. 

He was not in heat, at least not at the moment.   
And he very much needed to drink some water. 

Loki slowly got to his feet, swaying for a moment. His legs were wobbly like those of a newborn colt, and he realized that he only had little energy left. 

First he needed water.  
Then he should find himself something to eat. 

Loki made his way into the bathing chambers; the first thing he did there was to pump water into a pitcher and drain it. He held on to the wall as the water settled in his heaving stomach, his knees shivering as he broke out in cold sweat.  
When it was clear that he was not going to throw up he sank to his knees, using all his strength to pump more water into a bucket that lay next to him. Then, slowly, Loki began washing himself. He started with his stomach, where a thick layer of dried cum clung to him, grimacing as he slipped his cloth over the flaky patch, rubbing at it again and again until it finally started to clear. He used copious amounts of soap, lathering himself up, carefully sponging between his legs, hissing when he realized how sore and yet still sensitive he was to touch.  
Once he deemed himself sufficiently clean, he poured the filthy water out of the bucket and then went to washing his hair, first once, then twice.   
Then he washed his body one more time.

He was not sure if he was giving out pheromones that an Alpha could smell on him, but he rather not take any chances. 

No sir. 

He scrubbed himself until his flesh turned a dark purple and when he was done he grabbed a thin towel and rubbed at his skin until he felt raw. He pulled a comb through his hair heavy with wetness and bundled it in his neck in a tight bun.

He wondered if he still smelled of his heat – he wished he had perfume to drown his own scent, but as he had nothing of the sort he made due with some strong smelling oils he rubbed into his flesh. 

And then he stood, feeling a lot more clean and, for some strange reason, sane.

He made his way back to his rooms. 

There he went through his things until he found a pair of thick pants that he hoped would mask his scent as well as an erection if it came to that. He pulled them on, his cunt throbbing with every movement. His eyes scanned the room for Fenris whom he knew had been with him when he returned from Asgard, but no matter where he searched for him, he was gone. 

Loki sighed, rubbed his temples.

His son must have left while he was still fighting his heat, probably hunger or thirst had driven him out into the castle, maybe even onto the Icen plains.   
And he had closed the door behind himself.

Loki smiled tiredly.

Clever boy.

Loki slowly walked towards the exit, stopping in front of the Icen door.  
Of everything that he had to worry about with himself going into heat, at least his son was not one of them.  
And now he had to take care of himself. 

He stared at the rough surface in front of him, his fingers clenching into fists. 

The thought of leaving his room, to be at the mercy of his own biology and potentially the Alphas around him – it scared him.   
It scared him a lot. 

But what was he supposed to do about it?  
Wait it out?  
Hoping that he would not go into heat again?

Loki grimaced, reached for the door-handle.  
He could not hide forever.   
And he had to eat. 

So he took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped into the corridor. 

 

x

 

Loki made his way into the kitchen.

He wanted to use his invisibility but realized quickly that he was too weary to keep up the spell. Therefore the trek was long and frightening, for he jumped at every noise, his fingers clenching into his arms, hoping that he would not meet anybody on the way.  
But he was lucky.

He let out a sharp sigh when he stepped into the vast, empty rooms of the kitchen, immensely grateful that he had neither met nor seen a single Alpha. 

He quickly went through some of the shelves and prepared himself a simple bowl of porridge, ice-cold and nourishing, adding a couple of slivers of dried meat. He took his food and turned, ready to head back to his room, when he looked up to find Ulf towering above him.

Loki stiffened with surprise, almost dropping his bowl of porridge to the floor.

His mouth went dry.

Ulf was the last person he wanted to see at the moment.   
He was not scared of the Alpha.   
But he still felt too... _raw._  
He wanted to be alone.   
Lick his wounds.   
Not talk about them. 

And he was really not too sure how his own body would react. 

Loki opened his mouth, then closed it. He felt flayed open by those watery eyes that were focused upon him, felt as if they were staring right into his soul. He lowered his gaze, his fingers curling around the bowl tightly. “Ulf.” He offered a curt nod.

Ulf was frowning down at him, leaning heavily on his walking-stick. “Loki! Damn you, boy! Where were you?” His eyes glittered with concern, belying the sharpness of his words. 

Loki huffed out a breath. “I am fine.”

The elder straightened, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, you are fine? You went missing for days! Left without a word! What in all the realms have you been up to?”

Loki took a deep breath, shaking his head almost inconceivably. “That is really none of your business.” He stepped to the side, trying to slip past the elder Giant. 

But Ulf was having none of it. He held out his stick and tapped against Loki's thigh, stopping him in his tracks. “None of my business? We were supposed to meet yesterday, remember? What was so important that you would stand Byrnjolf and me up? Huh?”

Loki stopped, staring down at the stick.  
The meeting.   
He had forgotten all about it.  
He had asked for it, wanting to discuss a new Ice house out in a village...  
Shit. 

Loki shook his head, still evading the elders gaze. He felt slightly sick. He had not realized that he had been out for two full days “Sorry. It slipped my mind.”

Ulf tapped the stick against Loki's thigh again, the impact caught by the thick fabric of his pants. Ulf's voice was not quite sharp, but close to reprimanding. “You forgot? Really, Loki! Your lies are usually much more convincing than that!” The elder coughed, the hacking sound loud and familiar. “Come on, what were you up to?”

Loki finally raised his eyes. “Damn, you, old man!” He growled. “I went to Asgard! I begged a pardon for the young thief! It came up last minute, all right? I am sorry I forgot our meeting. But we'll just have to reschedule! Now let me pass!” He shoved the stick away and walked past the old Giant, picking up his steps. 

He heard Ulf shuffle to turn behind him. Damn it, he could hear the glee in the elders voice. “You went to Asgard? Well, that at least makes sense!” The laugh that followed sounded like ice splitting. “Knew you would give in one day and see that lover of yours! Good for you!” Loki stopped in his tracks, the smugness of the words clenching his stomach into a tight ball. “Did you beg for the pardon on your knees? Or did he do you the honour?”

Loki twirled around. “SHUT UP!” He could not hold back the snarl, his abrupt movement spilling porridge over his fingers, splattering it over the floor. “How dare you! I went there for the boy! Do you hear me? The boy! Not whatever your dirty old mind conjures up!”

Ulf stayed calm at the burst of emotion, simply raising an eyebrow. “Whatever you say.” A smile still tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Though I really don't know why you are all shy about it. I mean, good for you! It was about time you finally got laid. I know I wish someone fucked me, once in a while.”

Loki grit his teeth, fingers clenching around the thick clay of the bowl. His voice was low, dangerously so. “One more time, old man. I did not go to Asgard to fuck. Never suggest such a thing again if you wish to remain on friendly terms, do you hear?”

The elder raised one hand, palm outwards. “Ok, Loki. Peace! I meant nothing by it.” He cocked his head, eyes watery but sharp. “But you were gone for several days, missing meetings even. That's not like you. What were you doing if you did not spread your legs for our oh-so-mighty king?”

Loki grit his teeth. “I was sick.”

Ulf's mouth pulled into a gentle smile. “Is that why you are in such a bad mood? You got sick? By the way you are snarling at me, I could almost think you got yourself into a bond-heat when seeing that Asgardian bastard. And then, thick-headed as you are, sat it out all by yourself!”

Loki froze.

The words hit him in the stomach like the fist of a full-grown Alpha Warrior.   
His fingers loosened in shock, and time seemed to slow as he watched the bowl slip from his hand and slowly turn, falling towards the floor. The moment it hit the stones it shattered into hundreds of small pieces. 

Loki took a shuddering breath as he stared down at the mess just in front of him, the spilled, watery porridge oozing viscously between his toes. A fleck of inky blood bloomed on the back of his left foot, slowly running down the his skin, mixing with the spilled, milky substance. 

And then something gave way deep inside of him, like a damn breaking, and all the emotions he had been suppressing, the anger, the fear, the worry about what was to happen, all of them crashed over him.   
A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye, and then another.   
And another.

Loki raised his hands and buried his face between them, muffled an angry sob.

He heard Ulf shuffle towards him and then a heavy hand touched his shoulder. He batted it away with all his might, his voice wet with emotions. “Go away. Leave me be!”

“Loki.” Ulf's voice was tentative, soft. It came from just above him, meaning that the elder had not moved. “I am sorry! You know you should never listen to what I am saying, right? I am just an old idiot!” Another gentle tug at his shoulder, another slap at the large fingers to get rid of the unwanted contact. Still Ulf did not allow himself to be deterred. “Come on, let's sit you down and I will make you something else to eat.”

Loki shook his head, his fists pressing against his burning eyes.   
He did not want to sit down.   
He wanted to go this rooms.   
Be needed to be alone.   
“I am not a child!” He grit out. “Just leave me be!”

But Ulf was still there. “I know, I know. You are all grown-up and fearsome! Come, Loki, I have some mead stashed away somewhere. Have been saving it for a rainy day. Now is just as good as any other time to drink it. What do you say?”

“I say I want to be alone. Not that you ever listen to me!” Loki bit out. 

Ulf's voice was still damnably soothing, unperturbed. “Of course I listen1 You want to be alone, fine. But first have something to eat. Then you crawl back into that room of yours. Be alone for the rest of the year, Hel, century if you so wish. But for now...have a drink with me. Come on.”

Loki rubbed at his face, skin burning slightly with the salt of his tears.   
He felt faint, his stomach was clenching hungrily at the idea of food.   
He needed to eat, that much was clear. 

And it was clear that Ulf would not leave him alone.   
He was a persistent bastard that way. 

Loki grit his teeth.  
Then he straightened himself and slowly lowered his hands.   
His gaze fell on the elder Alpha towering above him, upon the dark red, inquisitive eyes studying him carefully.   
Loki scowled, crossed his arms in front of his chest.   
His eyes flicked down to the mess he was standing in, the spilled porridge, remnants of the destroyed bowl, his foot still oozing blood. 

Great.

Ulf tugged again at his shoulder, voice low but authoritative. “Just leave it. I can clean that up later. It's my job, after all. Just make sure not to step into another shard, ok? Can't have you bleeding all over that damned floor. At least not more than you already are.”

Loki huffed out a breath. He did not bat the hand away this time and allowed the elder to tug at him, finally moving and stepping over the worst of the spilled porridge, setting his feet carefully, feeling for shards before his put his full weight upon them. 

Reluctantly he followed Ulf towards a group of crooked chairs around a table, climbed unto one and sat down, his feet dangling like a small child.   
Jötnar furniture.   
Too damned large. 

He looked down and once more noted the gash on his left foot, still bleeding, thick drops of blood rolling off the side, splattering onto the floor – splat – splat – splat. Ulf hissed as he leaned over him. “Okay, let's first get you to stop bleeding all over my clean floor and then we go from there. Just wait, Loki. I will be right back.”

Loki stared at his injury. “Those floors are only clean in your imagination” He mumbled. 

Ulf stopped in his tracks and stared down at him, then smiled broadly. “Cleaner than your pitch-black heart, that's for sure.”

Loki scowled, but there was little heat left in the motion.  
He watched as the elder disappeared, coming back in less than a minute, holding a thick piece of clean cloth. Without a word he handed it to Loki who leaned over and pressed it against the wound, the cut throbbing slightly under his fingertips. 

He heard Ulf walk away a second time. 

When the Giant returned again he was without his walking stick, shuffling carefully, balancing a tray that held a bowl just like the one Loki had just dropped, as well as two crude mugs and a large jug. He placed it down onto the table before he sat down with a low groan. Ulf watched Loki for a moment, as he pressed the bandage to his foot stilling the blood-flow while glowering at him defiantly. Ulf smiled gently and took hold of the jug and poured dark golden mead into the two cups. 

Loki stared at the bottle, shifting ever so slightly. “Where in all the realms did you get mead from?”

Ulf's mouth pulled into a grin as he continued to pour, filling the cups all the way to the rim. “Stole it. Some of those pink-fleshed idiots aren't as bright as they imagine. And they think us to be nothing more than dumb animals anyway.”

Loki shook his head. All of the sudden he was tired. “You could loose your horns for that. Go to prison.”

Ulf shrugged, pushing one of the filled mugs towards the slighter Frost Giant. “Don't need my horns any more anyway. And I have been to prison before. Doesn't scare me. So no worries.” He raised his mug. His grin got even wider. “Though I must warn you! This stuff is shit. Seriously horrible. Been frozen for too long. But in the end?” He took a deep gulp, smacked his lips. “...it is better than nothing.”

Loki took his cup, raised it as well. His hands were shaking slightly. He took a sip and immediately coughed out the sharp liquid, gasping. “This is disgusting.”

Ulf nodded, looking satisfied. “Told you so. But I am sure it makes you big and strong! Cheers!”  
He raised his cup again and took another gulp.

Loki rolled his eyes, stared down at the amber liquid. He sniffed at it, but as far as he could tell, it was not off.   
So he took another sip as well.  
It was just as bad as before.   
Carefully he paced the cup back onto the table. 

His gaze shifted towards the bowl that was still on the tray, and Ulf noted it, pushed it towards him.   
“Eat. You look like you need it.”

Loki nodded.   
He felt faint, and his stomach grumbled. He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the porridge, closing his eyes when the taste hit his tongue.   
It was good.   
The thick substance was much richer than the one he had prepared for himself, not only containing meats and different kinds of vegetables, but sweetened with honey and a dash of fish sauce added the necessary spice. 

Decadent. 

He slurped in a spoonful and swallowed, holding in as his stomach revolted. When it quieted down he ate some more, slowly, savouring each bite. 

Ulf was watching him closely. “Good?”

Loki opened his eyes again, nodded. He ate in silence and the elder Giant watched him, sipping on his mead every now and then. 

When Loki was done he pushed away the bowl, nodding at the elder. “Thank you.” He leaned back for a moment, the fullness of his stomach and the heaviness of his limbs telling him to rest.   
He blinked, rubbed his face. His eyes glided over to the mess of spilled porridge still on the floor. Loki sighed, canting his hips forward until his toes finally reached the floor. “I am going to clean up and then I am heading back to my rooms.”

Ulf leaned in, laying his large hand onto one of Loki's forearms. His large eyes were dark, unreadable. “Cleaning is my job, not yours, remember?” His mouth quirked into a small smile. “You would not want to take my work from me, now would you, Loki? Get me replaced?”

Loki pulled his arm away. “Stop touching me.” He picked up the bowl and his half-empty cup. “As for the mess - I spilled it, I will clean it. You don't need to pick up after me, old man.” He turned to walk towards the enormous sinks in the dark part of the kitchen. 

Ulf was speaking behind him, voice quiet. “Don't run away, Loki. Talk to me. Talk to me about what just happened.”

Loki shook his head, his eyes glued to the floor. “Nothing happened. I was sick, had too little to eat. I overreacted. End of story.”

“Bullshit.” Ulf's answer was hard, clipped. Loki turned to look at him, watching as the elder rose from his seat, holding himself up by the table. “I said it before, your lying is much less skill-full today than it usually is.”

Loki's eyes narrowed, he hissed out: “Fine. How about this then - I don't want to talk about it.”

Ulf sighed. “Of course not. And why should you? It's not like I am your friend and it's not like you just had a minor breakdown in the middle of my kitchen. Totally understandable and all.” The elder huffed out a breath and shook his head as he sat back down with a grunt. Still he glowered in Loki's direction. “You do understand that I mean you no harm, right? Or are you worried that I will go gallivanting around the castle, telling your well-kept secrets to everyone within reach?”

Loki smirked at the image that his mind painted for him – Ulf _gallivanting_... But then he turned serious once more, his voice quiet as he answered. “Have you considered that, maybe I simply don't want to talk about what happened? That it might be difficult to speak about? Has that idea ever entered that thick old skull of yours?”

Ulf cocked his head, studying Loki intently. “Oh sure. Totally considered it. And decided that some things, especially the ones that make one weep like a babe in its mother's arms, should be talked about. No matter how hard they may be.” He shrugged. “Whatever you have to say, Loki, I will not speak of it ever again if you do not wish me to. But I am sure that it will do you good to talk about it. And maybe I can help.” Ulf focused on him, face serious. “Also I promise that I will try real hard not to be an ass about whatever is bothering you. I swear.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I am sure that would be exceedingly hard.”

Ulf grinned slyly. “You can't even begin to imagine.” 

For a moment the two of them stared at each other, Loki still in the middle of the vast kitchen, Ulf seated at the table. Then the elder leaned forward, raising the jug. “Come. There is still mead. Sit.”

Loki felt his legs lock up, his brain screaming at him to leave.   
And he wanted to.  
He did. 

But maybe... maybe Ulf was right.   
Maybe the old one could help him, give him ideas suppress this heat in case it came back. 

Yes, it would be embarrassing.   
But there was really no one else he felt he could talk to. 

And if there was a sliver of a chance for the heat to come back, he wanted to know what to do.   
For at the moment he did not have even an inkling of a clue. 

Slowly he walked back to the table, carefully placed the bowl and mug back down before he climbed back onto his chair. When he looked up Ulf was staring at him and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

Ulf smiled at him gently. “Thank you, Loki. You will feel better for talking, I am sure of it.”

Loki grumbled, his eyes glued to the table. “I would not bet on it.”

Ulf laughed quietly. “Of course not.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

Ulf finally spoke, realizing that Loki would not be the one to start speaking. “So... I guess you had a problem with something I said?” His eyes darkened and his voice became low, dangerously so. “Did something happen while you were in Asgard?”

Loki shook his head, shifted.   
He could feel the worry radiate of the elder like warmth from a fireplace.   
And he guessed it was understandable.  
He had been so vulnerable.   
So weak.   
He had _cried_ , for the Norns sake. 

The idea that Thor had harmed him in some way was a reasonable one. 

He sighed, shook his head once more. “No. Nothing like that. I...” He stared at the cup in front of him, fingers clawing into his arms. To choke out the words was one of the hardest things he had ever done, as if they were physical manifestations of his disgrace. Finally he spat them out, unsavoury as they were. “I was in heat.”  
Shame bubbled up sharply from his stomach, laying its icy fingers around his heart and squeezing it.   
His whole body tensed up and he felt ready to bolt, knowing that Ulf would mock his shame, would taunt him with something like 'I knew it' and 'I told you so'.

But the elder stayed surprisingly quiet. 

Loki waited for a long moment, taking low, shallow breaths. When nothing happened he raised his eyes, surprised to see Ulf looking... puzzled? The elder shifted, his voice low and somewhat careful when he spoke. “You... I mean... you realize that going into a bond-heat is nothing to be ashamed of, right?”

Loki shook his head. He could feel his cheeks burning. “You don't understand. I went into this heat out of nowhere. I wasn't expecting it.” His voice was little less than a hiss. “He hardly even touched me!” 

Ulf was staring at him, clearly confused. “Okay. Right. But I mean...” He shook his head. “You met Thor in Asgard which means you were clearly mate-triggered.” Ulf's brow furrowed he noted the look on Loki's face. He leaned back, his brow furrowing. “I am not really sure where the problem is here.”

Loki stared at him, his fingers digging points of pain into his own flesh. “What do you mean – mate-triggered? What are you even talking about?”

Ulf pursed his lips as he continued to study Loki.   
Suddenly he leaned forward and took another big gulp of mead. When he was done he placed the cup down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was scratchy once more. “I hate asking you this, but...” He took a deep breath. “What do you actually know about Jötun anatomy? About sex, heats, mates?”

Loki opened his mouth, closed it. He could feel his face darkening as blood rose in his cheeks. “I read a couple of books about it.”

Ulf groaned, rubbed his hand across his face. “Nobody ever told you, did they? Your mother... she died at childbirth. And I take it no one else ever sat you down and explained this shit to you!” The look on Loki's face must have been confirmation enough because Ulf shook his head, mumbling under his breath. “Ok, I am going to need a lot more mead if I am going to tell you about how to make babies. A whole lot more.” He poured himself another measure, topped up Loki's as well. His face was sober when he passed it back to the slighter Giant. “Have a drink, Loki. You are going to need it.” He raised his cup, laughed under his breath. “You are literally the first poor sucker I ever had to explain this to. So lean back, Loki. Let me tell you about how the mighty Jötnar fuck!” He drained the cup in one go before he smacked it back down onto the table. 

Loki tightened the arms in front of his chest. He could not suppress a dark growl: “I know very well how to fuck. This may be news to you, but I actually have a son? His name is Fenris?” Loki shook his head. “You are supposed to tell me about the bonding heat. About mate-triggering. I don't want to hear about anything else!”

Ulf laughed, laying his head back. “By the Norns... All of these things kind of go together, believe it or not! So I am going to have to cover one thing to get to the other” He took another sip. “Ok, let's get this over with.” He leaned back, took a deep breath. “You know about the mating-heat, that it is triggered by the seed of an Alpha?” Ulf raised his eyebrows questioningly. “I mean, that's how you got pregnant the first time.”

Loki shrugged, scowling. 

Ulf sighed. “Ok. All the way from the beginning then. To get pregnant you need to go into heat.” He grinned briefly at the sharp huff that Loki let out, then turned serious once more. “You fuck, and the more compatible you are to the Alpha you screw with, the faster do you go into the so-called mating-heat. That is the heat where you fuck until your Alpha's seed takes. And then you become pregnant. You know the story.” He rubbed his face, grimaced. “But here is the interesting part: An Alpha and an Ergi that are truly compatible form a sort of a bond the more often they mate, and creating a new life, well...it is a powerful thing.” The look on Loki's face was thunderous, and Ulf sighed, continued. “Now we get to you. The bonding-heats start happening only after the first child has been weaned off. It is the way of the Ergi's body to show to her bonded mate that she is ready to conceive again. I believe it is meant to pull a pair together, strengthen their relationship, get them to plant more seed to eventually trigger a mating-heat. More or less it is an invitation to fuck.” Ulf shrugged. “Jötun anatomy. It is rather complicated.”

Loki's mouth worked as he ground his teeth together. “Well, that is just wonderful. I am not interested in bonding or mating or any of those things. And I definitely do not want to get pregnant, neither by that brute nor by anyone else! So tell me how to avoid them.”

Ulf smiled softly. “Well, there is really not too much you can do about a bond once it has taken. It is a powerful thing. Especially when one seems to be as strong as yours.”

Loki stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

Ulf took another sip of his mead. “I mean, you got pregnant really rather quickly the first time around, didn't you? Hardly lasted a decade before the Odinson knocked you up. And now... you going into a bonding-heat when you say he hardly even touched you? Well... that's unusual, to say the least.”

Loki felt like there was not enough air in the room. He pressed out: “Why?”

Ulf stared at him. “Because it happened really damned fast and came on really strong. Normally you need to be around your Alpha longer, need a lot of physical contact before you develop a bonding-heat that gives you an actual fever! You say you guys hardly touched? Damn, Loki, that just means that the pull between the Odinson and you - It is strong!”

Loki continued to shake his head, his fingers clawing into the table in front of him. “You lie. There is no bond. There never was!”

Ulf 's lips thinned and yet his voice was low, soothing. “I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but those are the facts. You have a stronger bond to that pink-fleshed boy than many Jötnar ever will develop. Or have, in these dark times.”

Loki just stared at him with empty eyes, chewing on his lips hard enough that he tasted copper in his mouth. 

Ulf sighed. “Take your mother, for instance.”

Loki's head snapped up. “Ulf, I swear by the Norns...!”

The elder shushed him. “No, Loki, you need to listen to me. Laufey-king and Fárbauti, they were not mated and neither did they form a bond. Your mother was, as you well know, forcefully ergid, and the king had to plant his seed thousands and more times into her, for many years and decades before it finally took. And I don't believe your mother ever went into a bonding-heat after she had Helblindi or Býleistr. Her whole body resisted pregnancy. “He leaned in, his eyes sparkling. "Nature does always prevail in the end. With enough persistence, an Alpha can force a babe on an unmatched Ergi - but it takes a lot of time. So when you compare this against yourself – your body craves that boy's touch! You went into your first heat so fast, and...”

“You LIE!“ Loki had struck the table with his fist with all his might. He was breathing heavily, tears of anger prickling at the corners of his eyes. “ You lie! It is not true!” Loki leaned forward, his fingers curling aorund the edge of the table. His voice was a mere whisper. “That _boy_ raped me! He raped me and put me into chains, forced me into slavery, made me his whore and then his brood mare. There is no _bond_. No pull or whatever you want to call it. Do you understand me?” He had spat out the last words.

Ulf was calm, though his eyes were sparkling. “I am sorry, Loki, I truly am. And I understand that your lot was a difficult one. Maybe you formed a bond when you were still young. Even before he took you to be his prisoner. And it must be powerful enough to survive all your hardship. Because it is still there. And it is strong.” 

Loki could hear his heart thundering in his chest. “That is not possible. You said one needed to fuck to bond. I never fucked him when I was young.”

Ulf scratched his forehead. “I don't understand how the Norns choose two beings to be mates, Loki, so I just don't know. But all the signs, Loki, they fit! You just went into a bonding-heat, after all. Thor is your mate, whether you like it or not.”

Loki stared at the elder, horrified.   
The worst was, everything he had just heard rang true, deep within his core.   
He felt like scratching at his own skin, to rid himself of something he felt was tainting him, soiling him. “Your are wrong! I have met with Thor in the past, and I have never reacted this way before!

The pity was now shining brightly within Thor's eyes. “Oh Loki... You were only just pregnant. Fenris, he is small still. I don't know what you guys did over there in Asgard, but something sure took.” He shrugged. “Maybe before you never met him long enough. Maybe your body was not ready. Or maybe it is the bloody magic of love. Whatever it is, it is happening.”

Loki stepped backwards, his eyes widened in horror. “That's... I don't want that!” He looked at Ulf, his voice cracking. “I don't want to be bonded to that idiotic bastard! There has to be a way to get rid of it! You need to help me get rid of it. Please, Ulf!”

Ulf shook his head. “A bond will never go away, it can not be removed or destroyed, it can only weaken over many, many years. But you will never get rid of it.”

Loki felt feverish. “How do I weaken it?”

Ulf leaned in. “You don't, not when your bonded mate is still alive! Unless you stay away from Thor until the end of your life, you are stuck with him.” He looked alarmed when he noted the dangerous glint in Loki's eyes. “That... that would just be stupid. Don't even consider it, Loki. Staying away from your bond mate.. It would make you miserable. It would hurt.”

Loki was staring at the elder Giant. His mind was racing, his fingers digging crescent moons into his palm, again and again. “It could not be any more miserable than being with Thor would make me.”

Ulf raised his hands while shaking his head. “Loki, please. I know you don't like the fate that the Norns have chosen for you, but finding a bond mate is... damn it, boy. You make me sound like a sappy idiot. But a real bond is a wonderful and rare thing. don't throw it away.”

Loki was staring past him, eyes empty. “What if I fucked others?”

Ulf blinked. “What?”

Loki looked at him calmly. “What if I fucked others? Would I it help me get rid of the old bond? Would I be able to form a new bond instead?”

Ulf looked appalled. “What? No. Of course not. Have you been listening to anything I have been saying? A bond is not a dime a dozen.” Ulf took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Loki, listen to me. You are panicking. Just give it a while, let this sink in. Your body knows what it needs, even if your mind is fighting it. Just let nature take its course.”

Loki stared at him for a long while, then, slowly, shook his head. “No.”

Ulf blinked. “No?”

Loki leaned forward, took another sip of mead. “No. I won't allow it. I am not interested in a bond. I don't want it.”

Ulf threw his hands up. “You are insanely stubborn! Don't you understand that you will continue to go into bonding-heats again and again until your brain finally catches up to what your heart already knows? You are bonded. You have a mate. And that you need to get laid!”

“I don't want to.”

“What do you mean you don't want to?”

Loki stared at him, his eyes glinting feverishly. “I meant that I would rather fuck the whole of Jötunheimr instead of allowing that brute to put his hands on me one more time.”

Ulf stared at him. “That makes no sense, Loki! You know I am right, you can feel it! Why would you hurt yourself? Just to prove a point?”

Loki slid of his chair. “Yes.” He looked up at the elder Giant who continued to watch him. “I would hate myself, giving in. Knowing that I chose to bow to him, willingly, day after day.” He lifted his chin. “It is a question of pride. Pride and integrity.”

Ulf groaned. “Your pride would be a harsh mistress if she forced you to keep yourself from your mate! At least think about it, Loki!”

Loki stood, looking determined. “No. There is nothing to think about. If to break that bond I will have to stay away from Thor, so be it. I have no problem never speaking to that bastard again..”  
He ignored the tight clench of his chest that was accompanied by these words.  
Even his body knew that he was lying. 

Ulf groaned as he tried to stand as well. “That bastard is the father of your child.”

Loki laughed without humour. “My child is a wolf, in case you have not noticed. An animal. He can live without his father. And so can I. We have made due so far, after all.”

Ulf once more towered above him. He looked lost, his face pained. “Give it a while to think about, Loki. don't make a rash decision that would influence your life so.”

Loki shrugged. He turned to leave, then slowed his steps, turned around once more. “One more thing. What if I fuck others? Would I go into heat even if I wasn´t able to bond?”

Ulf swore under his breath, kneaded his temples with his fingers. He shook his head, slowly. “You might, eventually.” He sighed deeply. “If you wish to reduce the risk of going into a mating heat, don't let them plant their seed inside of you. Apart from that... you are old enough. You can fuck whomever you want.”

A humourless grin swept over Loki's features. “Well, thank you. That is much appreciated.” He kneaded his fingers. “Would I risk to bond again, to someone else?”

Ulf looked at him, eyes weary. “You might, but I doubt it. A strong bond will last a life-time, and to break it when your mate is still alive... I am not even sure if that is possible. So if you bond again, it would probably be much weaker. But I don't know.” Ulf straightened a little, glowering down at the slight Jötun before him. “I have never been bonded before.”

Loki felt a pang of sorrow for the elder. “Okay. I see.” He offered another nod. “I thank you for taking the time to explain this to me.”

Ulf was still staring at him. “I am not sure it did you any good, to be honest. But there we are. Just don't decide on the spot, Loki. Listen to your heart. You are a good-damned Mage, maybe magic it to speak to you and tell you how idiotic it would be to stay away from what you need and crave.”

Loki nodded. “Sure.” But his eyes were glittering with hardness, and Ulf knew that Loki had already made his decision.   
It made the elders heart heavy and weary, for he knew that there was little he could do about it. 

And all he could do was watch Loki leave the kitchen, wondering if there was anything he could have said or done to make the young one change his mind.

 

x

Thor visited only three days later.

x

 

Loki had spent his day working in one of the Ice houses, kneeling in soft snow, digging along the vegetable saplings when somebody stopped next to him. 

He lifted his eyes to look at up an Asardian soldier, wrapped into a thick, red cape. “Lord Thor has just arrived. He wishes to speak with you.”  
Loki froze, his whole body locking up. Time seemed to slow, his heart clenching painfully, again and again while the air seemed to suddenly become too thick to even catch a breath.   
The soldier seemed not to notice, for he continued to speak. “He wishes for you to join him in the library. Would you follow me?”

“I know where the library is.” Loki replied automatically. He slowly rose from between the rows of vegetables, stood tall. His skin felt numb. “I will head there myself.” He leaned down in a mechanical motion patting at the snow that clung to his pants. 

The soldier gave a sharp nod and left, leaving Loki standing in-between rows and rows of plants, all by himself. 

He took just another moment before he started moving, his feet heavy as if someone had tie them to the floor.   
His mind was in a turmoil. 

Why, in all the realms, did Thor have come to visit?  
Why could not just simply have sent a letter?  
Or even better, stay away for another couple of years the way he usually did?

Loki was confused and angry - at his body, at the drive his biology subjugated him to... he needed time to think, to figure things out.  
He needed time to lick his wounds. 

Thor being in Jötunheimr – that was not good. 

He started walking, out into the raging storm of the never-ending gloom of Jötunheimr's days.

His brain continued to sputter useless information at him while he tried to quell the panic that was threatening to choke him.   
He realized that Thor having come to the Icen Realm could, after all, only mean that he had reached a decision regarding the boy.   
And that the chances were very likely in his favour.   
Thor would have never taken the long road to Jötunheimr simply to deny him. 

But, and this worried him much more, the chances were also good that Thor had noted that there had been something between them.   
A spark, for the lack of a better word. 

It scared Loki to face him with that knowledge.   
And what horrified him even more was what his own, traitorous boy might do to him. 

After all, what if he could not control himself?

What if Thor's presence alone sparked another bonding-heat?

Loki stepped into a cold, dark hallway, the sounds of his naked feet on the hard floor echoing through the emptiness. His nails were digging into the soft palms of his hands, the pain keeping him somewhat grounded. 

He would have to make it clear to Thor that he was not interested.   
And then he would have to make the same thing clear to his own, damned body.   
That he did not like that blond brute, his heavy-handed advances, his stumbling oafishness. He had not enjoyed what they had shared, sitting side by side at the border of Asgard, talking, laughing. 

He would not, could not give in to the siren call of what Ulf had called a bond.   
He was not going to face another heat.   
Not I all the realms. 

This mockery of a bond was not going to deepen, not if Loki had anything to say about it. 

Actually he would do everything in his power to break it. 

So Loki locked his heart into an iron cage as he approached the rooms Thor was waiting in, pushed his conflicting feelings away, suppressed his emotions, forced his mind to calm. 

Otherwise he would have started screaming. 

Loki slowed his steps until he stopped in front of the doors of the library.   
He walked up to it and slowly, deliberately placed his fingers upon the thick ice. His heart clenched painfully, again and again, a hurt spreading in his chest that he could not define. Loki swallowed as he fought the panic that told him to run.   
Instead he splayed his fingers wide and then pushed the door open. 

Thor was standing by the fireplace, staring into the flames, his broad, caped back facing the room.   
Loki stood still for a moment before he let the door fall closed with a heavy thump behind him. 

Thor's head shot up at the sound and he turned around, his face lighting up when he saw his former consort. “Loki! How good to see you!”

Loki offered a curt nod in return, his face a deliberate, emotionless mask. “Thor.”

Thor smiled, not noting the stiffness in Loki's posture nor the coldness of his features. He came closer, waving a letter, the envelope dwarfed by the largeness of his hands. “Guess what I have here!”

Loki crossed his arms in front of chest, forced himself not to back off. He felt warmth slowly rising in his cheeks, and he hoped that they did not colour them too obviously. Condescension dripped from his words. “A letter.”

Thor did not seem to mind the tone of his voice. He laughed softly. “Oh aye. A letter.” He held it out, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “It is for you.”

Loki did not take it, still focused on Thor. “You could have simply sent it.”

Thor grinned. “I could have. But I wanted to give it to you personally.” He waved the piece of paper slightly. “It is the boys pardon. He is free to go.” His grin widened even more, if that was possible. “I have decreed that he is to help you set up the school.”

Loki felt a drop of sweat roll of his neck, sliding down his back.   
His heart rattled at the bars of the cage he had locked it in into.   
That was a generous offer and his body warmed to the words, to his former lover standing opposite him. He felt the sudden urge to step up to the Thunderer, to press his cool fingers against hot skin, slide them over warm flesh gingerly as he...

No. 

Loki ripped his gaze away, stared to the floor.   
He could not, would not give in.   
He clenched his hands at his sides instead. “I thank thee.” He pressed out between tight lips.

Thor was still grinning, and pushed he letter in his view, waving it around again with annoying consistency. Loki huffed out a breath and ripped it from the Odinsons's hand. He focused on the envelope, the cream colour of it, the roughness of heavy paper under his fingers, trying to ignore the rolling of his stomach. 

He swallowed down the acid that burned on is tongue and then forced himself to look up again.  
Sweat was collecting on his temples. 

He needed to get out.

“I thank you.” He said again. “Is there anything else?”

Thor's smile flickered.   
His eyes skipped over Loki's face, then down to take in his defensive stance, the way his fingers were clutching the letter too tightly. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Loki. Is everything all right?”

Loki gave a curt nod, mouth still set in a thin line. “Of course.” He swallowed, raised his chin. “Unfortunately I am busy at the moment. So if there is nothing else we have to discuss I would like to excuse myself.”

The smile was now wiped of Thor's face completely. He seemed confused, disappointed. “I thought you would be happy. Have I done something to offend you?”

Loki returned his gaze coolly. “No. I am very grateful for everything you have done for me. I am just really busy. I am sure you understand.”

Thor shrugged, clearly at a loss. “I guess... But I... I know something is the matter, Loki. You are so cold.”

It was easy to tip the heat that had been gathering in his stomach into something different entirely. Loki threw his head back, his eyes narrowing. “Well, you might have forgotten that I am Jötnar. We are cold by nature.” His voice lowered, cutting through the air like a very sharp knife. “But do please tell me, what is it I should be doing instead? Fall into your arms, grovelling with gratitude? Is that it? Or were you hoping for something else entirely?”

Thor raised an eyebrow, shook his head. He stepped closed to Loki, raising one arm as if to touch him. 

Loki flinched away, panic flashing white-hot through his spine. His seiðr was roaring inside of him, ready to help him defend himself from necessary. He stared at Thor who had stopped in his tracks, looking even more confused. “Stop.” He hissed.

Thor froze on the spot, his blue eyes wide and concerned. “Really, Loki - you are not yourself.”

Loki laughed, despair darkening his voice. He had one hand raised in front of himself defensively, ready to cast magic if need be, the other pressing the letter to his chest. “Oh, I am very much myself, Odinson. Very much so. I just need you to stay away.”

Thor blinked. “Why?”

Loki took a deep breath, fighting to keep his voice calm. “Because I say so!”

Thor shrugged, looking unhappy. “I don't understand. When you were in Asgard, we...”

And there it was. 

Loki's outstretched arm started to shiver, and his heart beat a fast tattoo in his chest. “We what? Tell me, we what, Odinson?”

Thor became quiet. “I thought you were enjoying yourself. That's why I am here. I thought...”

Loki's eyes narrowed, his words were little less than a hiss. “What? You thought what? That you would make me happy and pliant with this pardon of yours? And then? That I would get on my knees and suck your cock? Or that I would just bend over straight away for a quick fuck filled with gratitude?”

Thor ripped open his eyes, surprise painting his features. “What? No! Of course not. I thought...”

Loki straightened, his hands fisting at his sides. He feel the paper crumble between his fingers, but he did not care. “I don't care. Do you hear me? I don't care and I don't want to know. But this here, this is really easy. I am not your consort any more. You have no right to neither my touch nor my body. So if that is what you have come for, I am sorry to disappoint. Unless being touched is a common practice that all of your subjects have to go through.”

“Of course not.” Thor mumbled. Bright red spots were spread over his cheeks. “It is just that you acted so different towards me last week, you were so warm and I...”

Loki interrupted him. “I was nice to you because I wanted something from you. I wanted the boy to be free. I wanted a a school. And it worked. Now leave me be.”

Loki knew he was being brutal.   
He did not care. 

He had to get out of here, and soon.  
His cunt was starting to ache.

Thor's eyes widened and then they darkened with sadness. He shook his head. “This is not you, Loki.”

Loki could feel moisture gather between his legs, slowly running down his naked skin under his wide pants. He sneered. “Oh, but it is. Very much so. Maybe you just don't really know who I am, Odinson.”

Thor shook his head. “Something happened.” He insisted.

Loki could smell him now, the sharp scent of thunder and adrenalin mixed with the heady promise of warmth and summer. He could feel his heart racing, the words becoming harder and harder to press out between his lips. And his heart, it was beating heart and the heat that curled in his stomach...

He needed to get out.  
Now.

He stared right into those blue eyes. “Yes, Thor. You are right, as always. Something did happen.” He watched as Thor relaxed and continued. “Asgard happened. You happened. Everything made me remember. That I used to be your slave. Your whore. Your plaything. I used to have no say to what you would do to me. But not any more.” Loki threw his head back. “ You have no right to me. So leave me be.”

Thor's fingers were clenching at his side. His voice was low. “I am sorry, Loki. I know I did you wrong. I am trying to make reprimands” He held out his hands, palms up. “I only wish for you to be happy, Loki. I give you a position of power, I free the boy for you, allow you to build the school...” He shook his head. “And yet you are still so angry with me!” Thor shook his head, the movement sending another wave of heat in Loki's direction. “Tell me – will my debt ever be paid off?”

“Never.” Loki chocked out. “Not in my lifetime. You can release Jötunheimr and give us back the casket and I would still feel your disgusting hands on my skin, feel the weight of a slave collar on my neck. So if you expect me to get on my knees and suck your cock one more time just to keep this letter, I will. But don't ask me to respect you. Because you lost the right to that a long time ago.”

Thor's face bloodless, his eyes wide. “You are never going to forgive me, are you?”

Loki felt his heart clench painfully, his hands turning to ice. There was a white noise in his ears, filling his head. “No.” He whispered. “I will never forgive you.”

Thor stood for a moment, his face morphed into an emotionless mask. For a few seconds or an hour, Loki would later not have been able to tell which, they stared at each other. Then Thor shifted. “I suppose it will be better for me to leave.”

Loki felt his eyes starting to burn. “Yes.”

Thor's eyes were grey, and Loki could have sworn that he heard thunder over the storm raging outside. “I suppose you won't wish to see me again – unless you need something else from me.”

Loki's lips had gone numb. “No. As I said, I wish you would leave me in peace.”

Thor stared at Loki for a long moment. “So be it.” 

Loki watched him leave.

He was relieved and mortified at the same time.


	41. Work hard, play harder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there  
> First of all, thanks to everyone who has commented on the last chapter, it was quite a discussion I must say. I know I had fun and I learned quite a bit how people can see things very differently when it comes to rape, rape-survival and how to treat everyone involved. It was fascinating, really. And I loved the feedback it provided.  
> Secondly I understand that some of you are running out of patience with this story and finally want their happy ending.  
> Almost there.  
> So close.  
> I swear to God.  
> Though I may have lied a couple of chapters ago with how many it would still take.  
> At this precise moment we have three more chapters to go. Then we should be done. I really hope so. Unless my writing gets away with me once more and forces me to elaborate too many things too deeply once again.  
> But I will try my best to prevent that. 
> 
> New chapter not betad.  
> Comments and kudos are love and greatly appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> x

The moment Thor had left, Loki stared down at the letter of pardon in his hand, frozen in place like a statue. His body urged him to follow the Odinson, to beg him stay, to justify himself, to _explain_...

The desire to comply to his own instincts was strong, almost unnaturally so, and it took all his strength and effort not to give in. Instead he forced himself to stay still, swallowing drily as the low throbbing of his cunt subsided reluctantly, wiping at the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. He stood like this for several minutes, simply listening to the thundering of his heart, his fingers clenching, relaxing, clenching, relaxing, over and over again.

When he was sure that he had himself and his body under control he slowly made his way towards the door, stepping into the empty hallway, the letter clutched tightly to his chest.

He needed to free the imprisoned child.  
That was the reason he had come to meet Thor, after all.  
And he had paid for it dearly enough.  
Furthermore, it would not do to let the boy rot in prison any longer than he already had.

Loki quieted the turmoil in his mind by focusing on his steps, setting one foot in front of the other in quiet deliberation as he walked towards the west wing.  
He knew where the dungeons were located.

He had been there often enough as a child, after all.

Memories of being dragged down these roughly-cut stairs into the wet darkness bubbled to the surface of his mind, twisting and turning like a fish suffocating on dry land.  
Loki grit his teeth as he continued walking.  
He would not allow the horrors of his childhood to overwhelm him, not on top of everything else that had happened today.  
He had enough.  
The weeks and months he had spent down here, while someone beat his father's lessons into his flesh and branded his mind with the laws of the kingdom, those days were long gone.

Laufey was dead.  
He had no more say over him.  
Nobody did.

With focused deliberation Loki lit a small fire in the palm of his hand as he continued to walk; the small act of rebellion soothing his mind above all else.

He made his own rules now.  
He was free.  
And no one, neither Asgardian nor Jötun, had any say over him.

When he reached the end of the stairs there was a thick, heavy-looking door, and Loki extinguished his flame and knocked hard. Within minutes a key was turned on the inside, and a young Asgardian stood opposite of him. Loki said nothing, just raised the letter, the paper creased heavily by the abuse his own hands had subjected it to. The guard took it from him and broke the seal, read the letter in silence. When he was done he handed it back to Loki without a second glance. “Follow me.” His voice was surprisingly deep for one so young.

The corridor was less imposing than Loki remembered, the cells lined up in a row, solid doors locked to hold the prisoners in place. Apparently there were few inmates at the moment, for most of the doors were wide open, allowing a view into the tiny cells.

Then they stopped.  
The guard pulled a thick key chain from his belt and found the key quickly, sliding it into the heavy lock while Loki watched on in silence. The door creaked open and revealed a small room that was, much to Loki's relief, dipped in the sputtering light of a small torch, the fire flickering in the sudden breeze.

Loki stepped inside.

The young thief had been cowering in a far corner, his forehead on his knees. When he realized that the door had opened his head snapped up, and he scrambled to stand. His red eyes were wide and shining brightly, yet Loki could not help but notice his hands being balled into fists.  
Good.  
It seemed that imprisonment had not managed to kill the fight in him.

Loki offered the boy a subtle nod and a reassuring smile. “Come.”

The boy stared at him, his lips turning thin and white. His eyes flicked to the soldier waiting outside and his fists clenched even tighter.

It took Loki only a moment to understand that the boy was fearful, maybe even panicking. He cursed himself inwardly and made a soothing gesture, keeping his voice low. “The king decreed that your punishment was sufficient. You are free to go.”

The youngling's eyes sheened with tears, but he held himself tall, his head thrown back. He did not quite reach Loki's height and had to raise his eyes to look up at him. He was pale, the fear of the unknown having dug sharp lines into his soft face.

Loki gave him another moment to collect himself, then he turned and left, sure that the little one would follow him on his own accord.

They made their way out of the dungeon in silence, and Loki noted how the spine of the young thief curled forward and his head continued to turn, as if he was taking in his surroundings very closely. Probably looking for escape routes.  
Loki spoke softly as not to spook him. “Would you like something to eat before you leave?” He glanced around, taking in how the young one had flinched, his large red eyes staring up at him. Loki could see his face working, and was relieved when he saw the reluctant nod. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Loki led him straight into the large kitchens and indicated him to sit at the same, crooked table he had spoken to Ulf only days before. Then he went to prepare a bowl filled with thick gruel, adding lots of meat and honey. The boy stared at it with narrowed eyes when it was placed before him. He lifted a spoonful to his mouth and sniffed at it, then took a small bite. His features softened and he dug the spoon back into the food, shovelling it down with a speed that was astonishing.  
Loki watched him in silence.   
He was sure that the young one had been fed in the dungeons, but he showed signs of long-term malnourishment, his ribs clearly visible as his skin stretched too tightly over his bones.  
It was no wonder he was hungry.

Loki waited until the bowl was empty, watched as the spoon scraped over the thick clay, again and again. “Another one?” The boy hesitated only for a moment, then looked up at Loki, eyes strangely bright. He nodded.

Loki got another bowl, this time adding more vegetables and other spices, making it just as thick as the first one. The boy looked much more relaxed when he returned, so Loki smiled at him when he placed the bowl down. “My name is Loki.” He sat opposite of the young thief once more. “What's yours?”  
The boy stared at the porridge that Loki placed down in front of him, his throat working. His fingers were curled tightly around the spoon in his hand, his knuckles white. Then, finally he answered. “Leif.”

Loki smiled. “Nice to meet you, Leif.” He watched as the boy dipped his spoon into the gruel once more and started to eat again, much slower this time around. “As I mentioned before, you have been pardoned and are free to go as you please. But as I have you here...” He noted the spoon stopping in mid-air, the youngling's eyes narrowing suspiciously. “...I wanted to offer you a proposition.” 

The child stared at him, saying nothing.

Loki did not let it deter him. “You see, I am building a school. Or an orphanage, as you will.” Loki leaned back. “It will offer regular meals, a bed to sleep and, of course, an education.” Loki smiled at the boy who was staring back at him, a mixture of apprehension and interest painting his features. “I want to offer you a place among the students, if you so wish.”

The young thief furrowed his brow. He pushed the half-empty bowl away from him, slow and deliberately.  
Loki cocked his head. “You don't have to make a decision right now. We have not started building, and I think it will probably take around a month to properly set up, maybe even more.” He shrugged. “I don't even have any students as of yet. But I can already offer you a bed in the meantime, and I am sure I can find you something to do until we start.”

Leif radiated weariness, and he shook his head as he sunk back into his chair.

Loki sighed, rubbed his hand across his face.   
He wondered what else he should say to put the young Alpha at ease, but in the end he could not make the decision for him. “You can think about it. My offer stands. You and any of your friends can come to join my school. The doors are always open.”

The boy was staring at the half-eaten bowl with porridge, then back at Loki. “I have to go.” His voice was soft, with a slight scratch in it.

Loki smiled sadly. “Don't you want to finish your food?”

But the boy had already slid of his chair, slowly walking away, keeping his back towards the wall of the kitchen. Loki did not move, simply watched him leave. “Okay, sure. Turn left into the corridor and follow it, take the next corner right and you will come straight to an exit.”

The boy gave a quick nod and then fled the kitchen, disappearing into the darkness of corridor.

Loki wondered if he would see him again.

x

That same night, after having met Thor and releasing the boy, Loki returned to his chambers, feeling as if a horde of Bildgesnipes had trampled over him.  
He was tired and sad, his body weary and yet drumming with a heat that worried him.  
He paced the floor of his room over and over, trying to pay no heed to the mounting need to be touched, ignoring the fierce pain in his heart. However, as the night aged, the worry that he would slip into another feverish bonding-heat became almost unbearable.  
So Loki stopped, staring down at Fenris who was watching him from the floor, his blue eyes witnessing his mother's restless journey. Loki straightened. “Come, Fenris.” The young wolfs ears perked and he lifted his head from his paws, then slowly stood as his dam transformed into a large, white wolf in front of him. Fenris yipped playfully, sniffing his mothers fur before he turned and headed towards the door. A minute later they were out in the corridor, ignoring the shocked gazes of Jötnar and Asgardians alike as they chased through the castle, and finally slipped into the night through an open side door.

They ran for several hours through the darkness of Jötunheimr, tongues lolling as they jumped and played, chasing small icen rabbits, depleting pent-up energy and frustration in a most efficient manner. 

By the time Loki finally returned to his chamber he was exhausted, and when he fell onto his bed and slipped into a deep sleep, his dreams were thankfully empty. 

x

Loki went into another bonding-heat, though this one was comparatively mild.   
He spend the next two days in his rooms, fully conscious and aware of what was happening to him while a low fever raked his body, making him ache and yearn for hands on his skin and a cock in his cunt. He tossed and turned in his sheets, masturbating furiously, cursing the blond-haired Asgardian who haunted his every waking moment. 

Somebody placed little trays of food outside his rooms – Fenris growling viciously whenever someone approached, but they always left without another word. Loki would wait a while and then get the porridge and fresh water; he knew that when this heat was over he would have to thank Ulf for these little acts of kindness. 

By the third day he woke his temperature was back to normal and the all-consuming yearning for intimacy had subsided enough that it could be ignored. 

Loki washed, ate, and stepped back out of the confinements of his rooms and back into the world. 

Now that he was well he was eager to start his new project: Setting up the school.   
He had to take his mind of things, to distract him of his aching heart. 

First he made sure that Thor had not, in his anger, revoked his approval of the undertaking. 

He asked for a meeting with Dellingr, who stoney-faced and even colder than usual confirmed that Loki was allowed to choose a site for a school (though not in close proximity to any areas that the Asgardians lived or worked in), select labourers to set it up and furnish and equip the rooms as he saw fit.

Loki had smiled and thanked him. 

First he had to find a space.

Loki has been roaming the enormous and mostly empty castle grounds for years, so he already had a short-list of areas that would be of interest for him. He spend the next couple of days visiting all the places he had in mind, walking up and down long, abandoned corridors, climbing stairs into the higher floors just to descend them again, wandering in and out of rooms, chambers, alcoves, turning as he took in his surroundings, jutting down notes.   
By the time he had made his way through the entire castle he was exhausted; however he believed he had made his choice: a spacious and entirely desolate area in the east wing.

Loki allowed himself a short rest, and then he went there again, roaming through the empty rooms he believed could be his future school. On the first glance the entire space were not much to look at, dark and unwelcoming, the floors, walls and windows worn down or broken, dirt and rubble on every available surface.

And yet... there were many things about the location that spoke to him.

First of all, the entire area was deserted, no one lived or worked anywhere in close proximity, neither Asgardians nor Jötnar.  
Really, there was nothing that Dellingr could oppose to if he chose this site. 

The second floor held a large room that Loki believed could well be turned into a dormitory, with enough space for at least twenty beds. The rooms adjacent could be fashioned into bathing and changing rooms, one even had the remnants of plumbing that he hoped could be repaired.  
The ground floor had a row of chambers that were all the same size with large, currently broken windows allowing some of the gloomy light of the dark days to be seen. They could be turned into a row of classrooms, a dining hall, maybe even a library – Loki turned between the old, dirty walls, his eyes shining. There was enough space here that they could eventually even build a kitchen and additional housing for teachers, if that was ever needed.

In the same area was a door that led to the outside, to a small training area that clearly had not been used since the war. Furthermore, and this pleased Loki greatly, they were in close proximity to the far eastern city wall and therefore to the oldest Ice houses - so if they ever wanted to do teach there, it was within easy reach.

All in all he was very happy with the location.

But there was a lot of work that had to be done.

Next Loki met with Ulf.

Loki had been putting off meeting with the old Giant until now, even though he knew he shouldn't have. He knew that he should have gone and thanked Ulf for providing him with food right after his heat, but the fear of having to explain his choice and receiving nothing but disbelief or, maybe even worse, a pitied understanding – it had stopped him from doing just that. 

But he wanted Ulf to join him building the school, so it would not do not to seek his counsel in the matter.

Ulf was uncharacteristically quiet when they met, staring at Loki with an unreadable expression as they walked to the abandoned wing. Loki had thanked him for the food and the elder had do nothing more than nod at him, eyes sparkling with emotions Loki could not place.   
Ulf did not comment any further than that, did not ask him to explain.  
Loki was quietly relieved about the fact.

Once they had arrived at the area Loki had picked out, Ulf had a look around in silence, then turned back towards the slighter Frost Giant. He grimaced, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You get to choose a site, and you decide you want the dirtiest, most destroyed area of Útgarðar?”  
Loki smiled tiredly. “Of course. Just because I knew that you would be the one to set it up for me.” He was happy when he received a grin in return. “Come. Let me explain to you what I have been thinking.”

They made their way through the rooms slowly, Loki painting his ideas with his words while his hands spoke eloquently, and for a while Ulf only listened to his vision and concept. Then they worked their way slowly room after room, and they discussed what was possible and what was not, which walls might be be taken down to create wider spaces, whether the plumbing for the wash rooms could be salvaged, what needed to be done before they had anything resembling a dormitory, dining hall or a classroom.

In the end they had an agreement, though Ulf grumbled about it all the way back to the kitchens. But he would oversee the modification and renovation of what would be Loki's school.

And that was really all that mattered.

Next Loki went and spoke to a sour-faced Dellingr once more, to give his choice of the site and to request for workers. He already had a list at hand, meticulously discussed and fashioned with Ulf, four labourers that the old builder knew worked well and that they could trust. The administrator grit his teeth as he read the names and the location of the area Loki had chosen, but much to the Jötuns surprise, did not argue.  
Thor must have, even after their fight, left clear instructions to what Loki could request.  
And apparently his demands were still within the limit.

And then the real work began.

Ulf oversaw the worksite, just as he had with the previous projects.  
Loki helped as best as he could, cleaning out the rubble, sweeping floors and washing walls, menial tasks that required no special skills. He worked on the school half days, then spent the rest of the afternoon and evening at the ice houses, overseeing the progress there, working on his own small corners where he had set up experiments of his own. His days were packed with enough work that, when he came home late in the evenings, he would usually do little else but fall onto his bed and slip into a dreamless sleep.

The days were long and labour-intensive, but he preferred it that way.  
For when he worked he did not have to think.

Six weeks later the rooms of what would make out his school were more or less fully restored.  
The damage to the floors and walls had been repaired, the windows filled with thin sheets of ice that allowed light to stream in and brighten the rooms, as little as there was. The large washing chamber on the second floor and the bathroom on the ground floor were fully functional. The rings that would hold torches had been renewed, the walls and floor washed and scrubbed within an inch of their life.

Loki could not suppress the grin when Ulf led him through the finished rooms.  
They were perfect.

He spend the following weeks procuring furniture – beds for the dormitory, ten to start with, desks and chairs for the classroom, shelves and chests, everything he could think of. Most of those were easy to get a hold of, for Loki found lots of abandoned furniture in empty rooms around the castle, and anything he was missing he had one of Ulf's worker fashion out of ice.

Other things were harder to find: Furs and linens for the beds, soaps and towels, books, chalkboards, scrolls, ink, all of them priced and rare commodities in Jötunheimr.

So Loki went through his own chests and his small library before he made another, modest list of what he believed to be the bare necessities. He did not wish to be in Thor's debt any more than he already was, not if he could avoid it. Once it was done he handed it to Dellingr once more.

It took a while for him to finally receive what he had asked for, but in the end the rooms were done.

His school was finished.

The only thing that was missing now were the students.

 

x

 

Loki had not realized how hard it would be to get children to attend his school.

He knew that very few young Jötnar lived in Útgarðar, no more than a handful at the most. He saw them very rarely from afar, usually in the arms of their mothers or pressed against their dams legs, staring at the world with large, red eyes.

Usually, when an Ergi saw him, she would usher her little one away, as if the despicable Mage status could be transferred by proximity alone.   
Loki did not let it stop him.  
He tracked the mothers down and talked to them, offered an education for the children that were large enough to understand, who made their way through the castle by themselves. He was usually met with a stubborn silence that he could not seem to break.  
He told himself that it did not matter.  
He had made his offer.  
Everything else was up to the mothers.

But of course the children out in the villages, the ones with no parents to speak of, the ones that were unwanted or starving, those were the ones Loki actually wanted to reach.  
Those were the ones he wanted to save.

So he made a plan that he set up in two parts:  
First he focused on the villages that he could not reach himself, the ones far away from Útgarðar. He fashioned written messages that he passed to the Jötun carrier who traveled back and forth between the capital and the most remote houses, the one who collected the reparation payments the Jötnar had to offer to Asgard in form of food and other goods.  
Loki realized that most of the Frost Giants would not be able to read, so he made the messenger memorize his offer for children to attend his school.   
In the end he was not sure how much of the information would actually arrive where he needed them to.  
Yet he did not know how to go differently about getting his message across apart from magicing himself across the Icen planes. However that feat would take too much of his energy and he was not sure about the coordinates of the most remote villages, so in the end he decided that it would have to do.

The second way he went to recruiting students was to go and speak to some of the village elders himself. He knew that there was a circle of five, moderately large villages surrounding Útgarðar, all of them in more or less close proximity.

So Loki packed a traveling bag with a couple of days’ worth of food and a change of clothes and called Fenris to his side. “Are you up for a run, Fenris?” He ruffled the large wolfs fur, his son staring at him with big blue eyes. The little one was little no more, now standing past Loki's hip and still growing. Loki placed his bag upon the wolf's back and strapped it down with several belts, rubbing his fur soothingly. “Let's go then, big boy.”

And off they went.  
They ran side by side, mother and son, the white and the black wolf venturing into the constant darkness of the never-ending storm.

They followed the neglected, icy road leading away from the capital for half a day until they reached the first crossroad, and then they went onto the large circle of paths that surrounded Útgarðar.

They worked their way through village after village.

Each time one came into sight Loki stopped their run and transformed back into his Jötun form as not to startle the residents, then he walked into the town square, his wolf son by his side.

The Jötnar he met greeted him with icy silence, suspicion sparkling in their narrowed red eyes, but they did not turn him away. He usually met with the elders within a few hours and spoke to them, glad that they would at least listen to his request, even if they seemed to do little else.  
It was apparent that the Frost Giants knew who he was.  
Of course they did.  
There was a definite lack of runt Mages who used their seiðr blatantly, even in view of the former Alphas.  
But it was also apparent that either the stories of his power or the dangerous looking wolf at his side stopped them from harming their former prince. Instead they listened in stony silence, offering nothing apart of their red eyes twinkling in the light of the flames.  
Loki told himself it was good enough.  
All he needed was to plant a seed in the minds of those who would listen, and if it would help just one child to make his way to his school, it would be worth all the effort.

It was the same, village after village.   
He was met with silence and weariness.  
He spoke, they listened.

And then he and Fenris moved on.

Their journey lasted ten days before he finally made his way back to the capital.

Loki, exhausted, fell into bed and slept for a whole day and night.

When he woke he took the time to walk through the empty rooms of his newly build school.

Now all he could do was wait.

x

A couple of weeks later Loki was sitting in the library, chewing on his lower lip.

He had several scrolls spread out in front of him, plans for ice houses that he wanted to implement in the villages, a new project he had started after no students had show up for the school, at least not for the time being.  
Loki had not let it upset him.

The children would come eventually.  
He just had to wait. 

His head snapped up to a sharp knock on the door.  
Loki furrowed his brow, leaned back in his chair. “Come on in.”  
He smiled tiredly when Ulf pushed his large body through the entrance, a mischievous glint in the old Giants eyes. “Loki! Look what I found.”

Loki stood slowly when he noted Leif trailing behind the elder Jötun, two smaller boys in tow. The little ones started at Loki, their eyes narrowed, their fingers clenching around the hands of the slightly larger, young Alpha.

Loki smiled, relief flooding his limbs.

After a short introduction ( the two smaller boys name were Aerinmund and Njal), Ulf ushered them into the kitchens to feed them. 

And then Loki took them to their new home. 

His school finally had its first students. 

 

x

 

The next couple of years Loki spent working.  
And he worked hard.

The school took most of his time, teaching his growing number of students reading and writing, mathematics, philosophy, biology, and everything he knew about the the realms and the universe. Most of the children had lived a hard life that had been marked by deprivation and hunger, and Loki relished seeing them relax into their new surrounding. In the afternoons and evening he still went to the ice houses and every now and then drove to the outer villages where he set up buildings, establishing a small work force which he taught how to plant and finally harvest crops. 

All in all Loki was busy, more so than he had ever been in his entire life.   
And apart from maybe Ulf, no one understood why. 

Loki worked hard to drown the pain in his heart, the sorrow in his mind and the desires of his flesh.  
His severed bond to Thor never stopped hurting. 

It did not matter how hard he tried.  
It did not matter how much he worked. 

Loki’s body craved touch, increasingly so ever since the bonding heat.  
And the more his life became routine with months and years passing, the harder was it to suppress his own needs. 

For a while he fought his bodily urges by taking care of them himself, letting his fingers slide over his own flesh, caress his skin, provide his own pleasure.

But it was not enough.  
Not ever.

And time passed.   
Slowly.   
Painfully. 

And it became harder and harder to ignore his own desires. 

Later Loki would not be able to pinpoint what happened the day he decided to finally give in and embrace his need instead of continuing to fight it. That day was one like many other before and after, nothing special whatsoever when he was walking past a couple of leering Jötnar workers. He remembered staring at their large, muscular bodies, so very different from the only lover he had ever known, the smell of their unwashed bodies, the dark, unspoken hunger burning in their deep, red eyes. 

And in that precise moment anger at his own body and his twisted fate had washed through him, and he had made a decision: if it was in his nature to be touched, so be it.  
He would not suppress his needs any longer.

As of that day, Loki took himself lovers.

He knew without even considering it, that he would not bed Asgardians, for they reminded him too much of the Odinson, with their pink skin, blond hair and blue eyes.  
And thinking about Thor placed a sharp pain into his chest.

Loki was not interested in heartache.

So he turned towards his own kind.  
He chose Alphas for himself, large, former Warriors who towered above him, with their bald heads and circular stubs where their horns used to be, their blue skin riddled with sharp lines and arrows he could trace his fingers over, feeling their history and pride written in their flesh.

They were different enough from Thor that he felt... _safe_ with them.  
For the lack of a better word.

The first lover he chose was purely at random.  
He had passed the leering workers on his way to an ice house when he noted a lone worker, a grand Alpha who stopped wielding his pickax as Loki passed, staring at him.  
Loki slowed, then stopped, looking at the enormous Jötun, how his muscles played under his rough, blue skin, lash marks on his back and thighs, a former Warrior who would have been in his prime if he still had his horns.  
The Jötun's grin was laced with lust, but it faded when Loki stepped up to him, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.  
“Like what you see?” Loki cocked his head, leaving his hands relaxed at his own sides.  
Another grin, this one a little darker. The Jötun spat out, then shrugged. “Sure.”  
Loki nodded as if he had expected nothing else. “Do you want to fuck?”

And that had been that.  
Not that his first tryst went smoothly in any way, type or form.

Loki met the worker in his own rooms later that night.  
Just after the Jötun had stepped into his chambers Loki had started to speak, explaining his rules, what he expected of the other and that the Alpha was not, under any circumstances to plant his seed inside of him.  
The Alpha had simply grinned with him, and then without foreplay or tender touches had pressed the much smaller Ergi onto the bed and ripped his pants down, thrusting a single finger into his dry cunt.  
Loki did not hesitate, not even for a second.   
White, hot-burning anger washed over him and he called his seiðr, shivering with cold satisfaction as he hurled a burst of energy against the enormous Alpha hard enough that it had him flying across the room. The former Warrior smacked against the opposite wall with all his might, cracking the thick ice under the impact.  
Loki stepped up to the dazed Alpha who had crumbled to the floor, snarling down at him. “This is not how you pleasure me, you big, dumb beast. When I say stop, you stop. When I say you are to satisfy me, throwing me down and raping me is not what I had in mind.”  
The Jötun stared at him with wide eyes, anger and fear flashing within them. “You are an Ergi. You are to submit to your betters!” He scrambled away as Loki stood taller, a burst of green flames flickering from his fingers. Loki threw his head back, his voice dripping with disdain. “You are not my better! You are pathetic! I am Loki! Son of Jötunheimr. I do not submit! Now if you are not out of my sight by the count of three, I will burn your cock to a crisp, do you understand? LEAVE!”  
He watched as the Alpha scrambled to his feet, threw the door open and fled.  
Loki stepped into the corridor behind him. His voice was loud enough the running Alpha could hear. “And if any of your friends actually know how to pleasure an Ergi, have them come see me!”

And that had been that.

The second lover Loki picked for his kind eyes. He was much gentler, careful even as he rutted into him.

The third lover found himself with major burn wounds that left him scarred for life.

Word got around that the Ergi-Laufeyson chose Alphas to bed him without submitting to them the way he should, that he had a freakish taste in what he believed to be his right, that he punished those who did not follow his ridiculous rules without mercy.

For a short while no one got close to Loki, the red eyes of the Jötnar staring at him with disdain and scorn, wherever he went.

But something shifted in the minds of the Frost Giants.

They watched him from afar, how he held himself with pride and tenacity, throwing his head back wherever he went, as if there was nothing to be ashamed or frightened of. He continued to stand up against those who were better and stronger than him, sometimes fighting with Alphas double his size as if he was their equal instead of bowing to his destiny the way he should have.   
He used his seiðr even though it was forbidden and fought with words laced with venom. 

Some called him a freak.   
An abomination.  
But as time passed many others were quietly intrigued.

For the Jötnar themselves were hurting.   
They lived in a realm that had been subjugated and abused by their captors, the Alphas had been castrated of their pride and their standing, the proud race of Jötnar as they had once stood was no more.

They had nothing.  
They were nothing. 

And now that small creature, who had been hated since his cursed birth, who had been raped and forced into slavery, who was still alive against all odds stood tall and proud as if he had a right to be. 

And some of the Jötnar slowly realized that Loki had what they had lost: A determination to live, a fearlessness to stand up for what he wanted, the endurance to take what was wrong and fight against it.   
Loki had not given up.   
He made his own rules.   
He did and took what he wanted, when he wanted it.

That was very Jötun of him.

And it the Frost Giants hope. 

For if a little creature like their former prince could stand up and get what he wanted and survive, maybe so could they, one day. 

And now Loki, who still had fire burning in his eyes, who had once been desired by the most powerful God of all the realms, he now offered himself to be taken by his own free will. Some of the Alpha's saw the challenge in bedding a the former consort of the Thunderer, the son of their king, the Mage who could burn them to a crisp with little less than a flick of his hand. 

They dared each other to take the fussy Ergi to bed and succeed pleasing him, without being injured in turn. 

And that was how the Jötnar slowly started to respect Loki. 

 

Loki knew nothing of what went on in the heads of his people surrounding him.   
He did not care, either way. 

For there were still Giants eager to bed him, after everything that had happened. 

He continued to choose his bed-partners at random, sometimes once a week, sometimes only once every couple of months. He only took them to his chambers them when he was weepy, when he was horny, craving for touch or a hard fuck.  
When he had to exorcise Thor from his dreams and his mind.

And there was one rule he set for himself: No matter how much someone pleased him, he would not sleep with him more than two or three times.  
He would not allow another bond to form.  
He would not tempt another pregnancy.  
Not in all the realms. 

Not if he could prevent it.

 

x

 

Years and decades passed.

And while Loki's thirst for touch was sated, his heart continued to ache.

Once or twice in all the time that passed Loki would lay under whichever Alpha was rutting into him, and with nothing less than a thought and a quick flick of his hand Thor’s body was towering over him. Loki would lean in, stare into the deep blue eyes, his fingers reaching for blond hair, his lips wanting to kiss.  
But the illusion was usually destroyed by the body being too large, by the lack of heat it emitted, by the noises it made.

The only thing it did was to make his heart ache even more fiercely, and Loki did not like to ache.  
So he suppressed his sorrow, censured his thoughts as much as he could, knowing that he was not willing to give in to what his heart wished him to.

Instead he fucked harder and more of his fellow people, trying to drown himself in a wave of lust, wishing it would take all of his wrong feelings away.

 

x

 

Thor, at the same time, chose a very different path.

When the Odinson traveled home from his fight with Loki he was filled with only one thing: unholy anger.  
Anger at Loki for making it so very hard to soothe him, anger at Jötunheimr, anger at the fate the Norns had chosen for them, maybe even a little bit of anger at himself, at Odin...

Thor suppressed his fury as well as he could, tried to concentrate on other things.  
Like ruling his kingdom.

Many years and decades later, however, when he heard that Loki took himself lovers...  
Something snapped inside of the Odinson's mind.

And instead of quelling his pain in lust, Thor drowned it in blood.

And there was always blood to be had.

He sought out any injustice he could find, for it would not do to take his righteous wrath to those who did not deserve it – but the realms were littered with injustice, murders and liars, warmongers and slavers.  
Those were the ones Thor found out and hunted down, without mercy.  
To quell his own pain with the screams of others.   
He started off with a horde of raiders marauding in Ālfheimr, put an end to a slaver ring in Svartálfheimr, battled smaller and larger warlords who resisted fealty and tribute to Asgard.

If there was blood to be shed in the name of justice, Thor brought war to establish peace.

And all the realms, apart from his enemies, loved and feared him for it.

Mjølner was his new lover, and he deepened their relationship on the battleground, fed her the blood and lives of his enemies, listening to her sing again and again.  
He worshiped her.  
And she, in turn, was as faithful as any lover could be.

The bloodlust that had him in his grip was as satisfying as a having his carnal needs sated, maybe even more so. And while his friends watched him wearily, aware that his righteous anger had taken on new dimensions, he never stepped out of line. So they fought and drank with him, making sure that he would not break the unwritten rules that might, one day, make him unworthy of the Hammer of the Gods.

x

After decades and centuries, one of those battles took Thor to Midgard.   
In the weakest of all the realms, Thanos, the Titan had decided to attack with his army of Chitauri, wishing to taste power and glory by subjugating a whole race. Thor had grinned wolfishly when he heard the news of the attack from Heimdall. He gave his command to his best friends to rule during his absence, gripping Mjølner with an iron fist before he was pulled through the Bifröst to Midgard.

He met some of the local heroes, men and women with some power and tiny amounts of magic, flimsy creatures everything considered, and they fought side by side to take down the enemy.

It was good to listen to Mjølner sing her song of death, and Thor relished it.

During the battle that would establish the fate of Midgard, the Odinson met a young woman whose tenacity, wit and pride reminded him of his former lover. Frail as her mortal body was, her craving for life and justice burned brightly, maybe even more so than his own, and she melted in his arms with her eyes wet with passion when he mounted her for the first time.

So Thor, who had not felt desire for anyone since his blue-skinned lover had left, took the Midgardian to Asgard and made her his new consort.

He hoped that Jane would help him rid himself of his unwanted desires for the Jötun who did not love him, yet whom he still craved, night after night. He placed Jane into the rooms Loki once resided in, hoping to create new memories that would layer over old, painful ones, the way that paint covered the murals of the Icen Realm, now depicting woods and mountains.

Thor hoped to fill the emptiness in his soul that he felt with every breath, with every heartbeat.

And as he buried himself deep between the slick thighs of the Midgardian, day after day, a yearning old as time took possession of him.

Thor wished for an heir.

A babe that was not a monster, his seed planted into someone who did not despise him.

Odin was caught in an eternal sleep that he would likely never wake from.  
So Thor was truly king, if not for the name than in any other way.  
And he would need an heir, sooner or later.

He longed for the pattering of small feet on marble floors, wanted to watch the woman called Jane grow round with life, something of wonder and love that he helped create.

He wanted to forget what poison he had begotten, the crimes he had committed, what monster he had spawned.

He wished for a fresh start. 

But the Midgardian, for whatever reason, remained barren.  
It was not for the lack of trying, and she accepted him in her arms with a vivacious passion that came from the greediness for life that accompanied her short life span.  
Healers from several realms proclaimed the young woman healthy, others concurred spells and potions that she had to drink; Frigga even rode with her to Mímameiðr and placed a spell upon her womb to beg the Norns for fertility.   
But it was all to no avail.

Jane never accepted Thor's seed and never bloomed and became heavy with child the way Loki had.

In the end they had to accept the fate that the Norns had placed upon them.  
For some things were not meant to be.

Still, the new consort helped Thor forget his pain and his sorrow, if only for a little while.

But humans lives are short and fickle.

And after less than thirty years, no time at all for a God, the woman who had aged much too quickly wasted away from a disease no one could stop, and Thor shed silent tears over her body when she passed away in her bed, tainting the consort room once again with sorrow and bitter memories

And Thor was alone and lonely once more.


	42. The proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes – hello again.  
> Longer break than usual – sorry about that.  
> I fell into another rabbit hole in my own mind, got sad, stopped writing, got sadder and angry at myself for not writing – lovely little spiral that really did not help anyone.  
> I am back though, not much left to go, hope you enjoy what I conjured up this time. 
> 
> Not betad because that would have taken another week.
> 
> Please remember that comments and kudos are love and very much appreciated. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

It did not take long for Loki to find out that Thor had taken himself a new lover.

Even much later he vividly remembered the moment he heard about it, how he had fallen into a deep void in his mind, as if someone had ripped the floor from under his feet.

That day he had been strolling through the castle, cloaked in his invisibility. He liked being able to listen in to the Asgardians without them knowing he was there, to find out about upcoming strategies for Jötunheimr as well as the most recent news and gossip from the Golden Realm.  
It had proven to be very enlightening on several occasions.

The days of his youth when he would play tricks, hidden by his own power, were long gone.  
Though, if he was honest, he had been messing with Dellingr once or twice, and once he had freaked out Ulf, and then there was this other time with one of the former Alphas... well.

By any account, Loki’s tricks were not as bad as they used to be.  
He had learned to be much more subtle in his mischief.

Though it was still as satisfying as it had ever been.

Either way, on that specific day he had taken a detour from his way back from an ice house, slipping through the Asgardian quarters, when he noted a small group of the red-cloaked soldiers huddling around a fire.  
Walking up to them he had picked up the words “...the king`s consort...”  
Loki had furrowed his brow as he stepper closer.

Why in all the realms would they still be calling him that? 

It had taken him no less than a couple of sentences to understand that they were actually not talking about _him._

No.

The Asgardians were talking about a woman instead, a girl whom the Odinson had chosen to be his new companion.  
Apparently her name was Jane.

Even years later Loki could still feel the sensation of air rushing from his lungs when he heard about her for the first time, could still feel the painful clench of his heart as it had stuttered in his chest. He remembered how, for just a moment, time had stood still and then how he had stumbled slightly as he backed off, drawing breath after painful breath. He had turned around and fled, his mind reeling with the implications.

Loki hurried back to his rooms, shedding his invisibility in one of the empty hallways, then made his way straight to his bed where he sat down heavily. Finally a faint noise of suppressed pain crossed his lips as his fingers twisted into each other on his lap.  
Shock and grief weaved into a complicated pattern in his mind, the taste of it heavy and bitter in the bottom of his throat.  
The heartache spread its tendrils through his whole body, numbing him while at the same time setting him on fire.

Thor.  
Thor had a new lover.  
Somebody else to share his life with.  
Somebody new to love.  
Her name was Jane.  
Jane!  
Who in all the realms had such a ridiculous name?

Loki grit his teeth, burrowed his head between his hands. 

He had been replaced.

Why did that knowledge hurt so much?

Loki realized that he was breathing too fast, unable to do anything about it.  
His mind was reeling, dark with confusion and sorrow.

It took him a while to realize that he was mourning something he had lost, as if a part of his life had died. 

Loki shook his head. 

He did not understand. 

Why, in all the realms, was he _sad_?  
He should have been relieved!  
This was what he had wanted!  
For so many years he had pushed the Odinson away, fought with tooth and nail to finally be released from the burden of being a consort!  
He had not wanted to be bonded.  
He wanted to be free!  
That was why he fucked half of Jötunheimr!

This was the best thing that could have happened!  
Right?

_Right?_

Loki curled up on his bed, desperately trying to convince himself that this was true.

But at the same time a small voice screamed in the back of his head, that he had lost something essential, that his mate had left him and that he would be lonely and desperately hurting for the rest of his life. Loki clawed his fingers into the furs beneath him as he the web that was his bond tightened around his chest, finally forcing the tears to roll down his cheek.

Loki wept.  
He wept for everything he had lost, for something he had fought so hard not to desire. 

In the upcoming days Loki grieved, walking around as if in a dream, roaming the castle aimlessly, his mind reeling while his heart seemed to be caught in a casket of ice.

He did his best not to blame himself for the choices he had made in the past, for he knew that when he had made them, they had been the best decision he could make, vitally important for the integrity of his own mind and soul.

And yet he hurt.  
His bond, it ached so much it was hard to stand. 

Loki lost his appetite and spent hours staring listlessly into the storm raging outside.  
For a few days he avoided all contact, staying in his chambers, asking Ulf to take over his classes for the time being.

He lay in bed at night, thinking about Thor and his new consort.

But Loki had grown.

He was not one to dwell on misery and remorse for very long.

So, when he had shed all his tears and screamed most of his sorrow into his pillow, he rose from his bed, took a long bath and stepped back into his life.

It would not do shut himself away over something he could do nothing about.

So he went back to his classes, to the ice houses, his face a carefully groomed mask that allowed none of his emotions to show.  
Ulf pestered him with questions, of course he did.  
But Loki ignored him with stubborn silence, burrowing his thoughts in the depth of his mind, covering them with debris.

He was Loki.  
He was strong and independent.  
He did not weep for losing the love of his former slaver.

Well.  
At least not for very long.

And so life went on.

The bulk of his daily tasks soon took over again, and he was too busy to dwell on unwanted thoughts, the monotony of his daily routine calming the upheaval in his soul. But still, the news continued to scratch at him, like a little animal caught in his body, reminding him that something had happened, something he would not be able to let go.

And as the itch was persistent Loki finally gave in to the almost masochistic urge to hear more about whom the Odinson had chosen to love.

So a few weeks later he cloaked himself in his invisibility and made his way back to the Asgardian quartiers, once again listening in to the gossip shared around the crowded fireplaces. And even though he had first heard the news months ago, the story of the bachelor king taking himself a new lover was a tale that could fill many evenings, and so it was no surprise that it did not take Loki long to hear more.

The things he found out were as much of a shock as a relief, though mostly the feeling of utter disbelief prevailed.

Thor had, of all the creatures he could have chosen, taken a _human_ to his bed.  
A human no more than thirty years of age.  
A mere _infant_ when measured in the years of Jötnar and Asgardians alike.

Loki was not sure whether to be outraged or insulted.

He continued to listen, but relief pushed the heavy boulders of sorrow from his heart, and he left soon after.

Thor had taken himself a human.  
A frail creature, its life cruelly short, nothing more than a flicker of a flame in a gust of wind.  
Unsuitable for a God.  
Unworthy.

Loki felt himself relaxed.  
Thor had not replaced him after all, not really.

For a short while he even relished the knowledge that that woman would waste and die in a few decades, that her hands that sullied what should be his would soon touch Thor no more.

Loki walked back to his chambers relieved.

Life went on as it always had.

 

x

 

The next couple of months and years passed uneventful.

And yet Loki was brooding, his eyes often darkened with thought.

The few short weeks of mourning had dug sharp claws into his mind and spread dark tendrils of unease through his entire being, tugging at his consciousness wherever he went.

The idea of having lost his grip on Thor´s heart, that the Odinson might have actually forgotten about him and moved on – it hurt.  
And, what was even worse, it scared him.  
For it was most worrisome to Loki was that he found that he actually cared about that dumb, big oaf.  
Missed him, even.  
His heart continued to insist that he has lost something of value, something that he would never be able to replace ever again.

Usually he could push the thoughts away and find a couple of weeks of peace, but then he would wake one night, covered in sweat, his bond painfully throbbing in his chest like a living thing that was trying to core him, taking his breath away.

And Loki would brood once more.

He knew, after all, that the human would perish soon enough.  
But then what?  
What if, after she was gone, Thor finally used his head for something else than wearing a crown, and took himself a consort that could last the ages with him?

An Asgardian, an Elf, a Dwarven maid? 

Loki knew he should be ignoring the pain, his worries.  
Allow bygones be bygones, live his own life while Thor continued to live his own.  
Damn his bond and his foundless attraction to his former abuser. 

But the longer his soul hurt, the more did he realize that he did not wish to do that.

Having kept Thor at a distance, to clear his own head centuries ago had been the right choice.  
Loki understood that to be true.  
He had been hurt too deeply, and the distance had helped him heal his injured sense of worth and his wounded soul.  
But now he stood tall once more.  
Loki knew what he wanted.

And he realized that he wanted Thor.

Damn himself. 

He was very aware that wanting Thor back could well be the wrong decision, for himself, for his realm, for everything he had fought for. If he was unlucky, giving in once more could push him back into a dark place filled with twisted memories and unwanted sensations. 

But he was at a point where felt he should make his final choice and then live with the results, be they good or bad. 

For a while Loki made a list of pros and cons of giving in, making calculations, trying to predict his future with either decision, of how his life could be. What if he was selling his soul and happiness for nothing but a biological urge?

But in the end he knew he could not hope to find answers by simply pondering, for if he had learned anything it was that life was as unpredictable as it was cruel. If he allowed his heart to make this final decision he would have to let fate take its course. And he could only hope that the Norns would finally allow him some relief from his seemingly never-ending anguish.

So Loki decided that, once that human had died and Thor had taken his time to grief, he would try to salvage what he had lost.

Because he finally knew who he was and what he wanted.  
What he needed, if he ever was to go back into a relationship.

The question was whether Thor would go along with his plan.

But either way, there was no use in not trying.

 

x

 

Years passed.

And they were long years.

Every now and then Loki went to listen to the Asgardians, to find out if there had been any change, is the woman was still at Thor´s side, if there was a child, if anything had happened.

But there was nothing.

The stories became less frequent and Loki realized he could do nothing but wait.

With his aching bond a constant, dull pain in his chest, his need for bodily comfort was as large as ever, and he continued to take lovers, chasing relief but never fully achieving it. The idea of trying to forge a new bond crossed his mind, but the idea was so repellent that he did not dwell on it for too long.

All he could do was soothe his own bodily needs and try to quell his unabiding longing for Thor.

There was nothing else for him to do.

 

x

 

Finally the human died.  
She died barren, and Loki found an unhealthy sort of satisfaction in that knowledge.

Afterwards he waited another forty years. 

An eternity.  
And no time at all. 

And then Loki sat down and wrote Thor a letter.

He passed his message to one of the Asgardian soldiers, asking him to deliver it to the Odinson on his next trip to Asgard.

And then he waited.  
And waited. 

A year went by.

And then another.

There was no feedback.  
No acknowledgement.  
Not even a confirmation that Thor had received his request.

Nothing.  
Nothing at all.

Loki ignored unease that gathered in his stomach and allowed life to continue.

There was little else to do, after all.

 

x

 

It was just another dreary, stormy morning.  
Loki had gotten up early, and was now at his school teaching a class.  
On that particular day he had decided, on a whim, to speak about poetry.  
It was a subject he had avoided so far, for children who had spent their entire lives knowing nothing but starvation and hardship, the idea of finding beauty in written words was not something that would be easily understood or appreciated.

And yet Loki found it was about time to teach them.

He started with olden Jötun nursery rhymes and then discussed Asgardian and Svartál literature, reading them out loud, the words flowing into each other like streams. He had just drawn a dwarfen verse on the blackboard, explaining how the letters and words merging in a spiral indicated the depth of the mountains, the vastness of the universe and the eternal dance of life and death when there was a loud knock on the door.

Loki furrowed his brow and lowered his chalk, glancing back at his students.

Fenris, who was curled up in the far corner growled deep in his throat, and Loki hushed him before he answered. “Come on in.”

The door opened and an Asgardina soldier stepped in.

From the corner of his eye Loki could see some of the children cowering in fear, and he raised his hand in a soothing manner. He addressed them, his voice quiet and sincere. “It´s fine. It´s for me.”

Whom else should it be for, after all?

The red-caped soldier stared at him, her blue eyes wandering over his body before she gave him the hint of a nod. Her voice was rough and scratchy, belying her youthful age. “Lord Thor has arrived. He is expecting you in the library.”

Loki felt his mouth go dry in an instance.  
He felt as if somebody had pulled the floor from underneath his feet and he gripped the chalk tighter to keep himself from showing his surprise. He swallowed and then returned her nod mechanically. “I thank thee for letting me know. I will be on my way in a minute.”

The Asgadian’s hand curled tighter around her sword. “The lord is in a hurry.”

Loki´s eyes narrowed, his surprise tipping into annoyance easily. “I am sure he is.” He answered calmly. “I will be with him once I have taken care of my students.”

She did not move, continued to stand in the doorway. Loki grit his teeth. “I can find my own way.”

He could see her eyes sparkling with irritation. “The lord shan´t be waiting for long.” She glowered at him for another moment before she turned on her heels and walked out the door.

Loki turned towards the class, his heart hammering in his chest. Still he managed to smile as his eyes found the eldest of his students. “Leif? Could you please get Ulf to take over? You know where to find him.” He watched as the boy stood. “Will you tell him I have an urgent errand to run?”

Leif nodded and left the room, his naked feet slapping on the icen floor as he hurried down the hallway.

Loki turned towards Fenris. The enormous wolf was watching him closely, his ears perked.  
Loki nodded at him, his red eyes burning. “Come on, my dear. Let´s go!”  
Fenris slowly got to his feet.  
With the passing years he had continued to grow, making him now the largest wolf anyone had ever seen, reaching past his mother´s shoulders.  
Loki smiled at him, pride swelling in his heart as it always did when he saw his son.  
If Fenris continued to grow the way he did, he would one day be large enough to devour worlds.

Loki ruffled his fur, murmuring nonsense into his ears, meant to soothe himself as much as his animal son. Then he took a deep breath and turned back towards his students. “Leif will be right back. Please try not to tear down the castle while I am away.” He smiled at them before turning towards the door, hesitating only a moment before he stepped into the hallway.

Then he started walking.

He focused on his feet, listening to the sounds around him, the howling of the storm raging outside, the clicking of Fenris´s nails on the stone floor and the sound his own, naked feet made on the cold stone floor.  
He kept his breathing even, in and out, in and out, counting his breaths as his heart hammered away in his chest – ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

Loki gulped in a breath.  
And another.  
And another.

So today was the day.  
He had not even _prepared._

Loki smirked, pushing his shaking fingers through his hair, trying to smooth the tangled strands.

No.  
That was not quite right.  
He _was_ prepared.

He had prepared for years, decades even.  
He had held the dialogue he was about to have with Thor in his own mind, over and over again, imagining the Odinson´s reactions, what he would say, how he would behave.

He knew what to say.  
He had done this a thousand times over, after all.

He would be fine.

Loki closed his eyes, forced his breathing to slow, hoping to calm his hammering heart.  
It would not do to look as panicked as he felt.

It was embarrassing.

It took him a couple of minutes longer than he usually would need to get to the library, but by the time he reached the familiar corridor he felt that he had himself under control.  
He stopped in front of the door, took a deep breath and pushed it open.

Thor stood by the window, back towards him, staring out into the flurry of the storm.

Somebody had lit a fire, dipping the entire room in a golden, soothing light.

Loki took another deep breath, then he stepped inside, the large bulk of his son´s body filing in behind him.  
The smell and look of the library had a soothing effect on him, easing his nerves.  
This was his own little kingdom, after all.  
This was where he, and he alone, ruled.

He stopped, standing tall, watching as Thor turned towards him slowly.

His heart clenched and his mouth went dry for the second time this day as he stared at the well-known features of the Odinson, a pang of suppressed longing hitting him right in the gut.  
He swallowed, raised his chin.  
Thor´s gaze flicked over his form, lingering on his features, his hair that had grown longer, just to movie on to the enormous wolf standing behind him. The Odinson´s bright blue eyes widened in surprise and he took a step back.

Ah yes.

Thor had not seen his son in the longest of time, not since he had been a little pup.  
He had grown rather substantially since then.

Thor blinked, opened his mouth, then shook his head and closed it again. Loki offered him a dazzling smile before he turned towards Fenris, pointing into the far corner. “Give us a moment, love.” The wolf offered a snort as response, blue eyes trained on his father as he walked to where his mother had asked him to wait. There he lowered his body to the floor and curled into himself, his head raised as his ears stood to attention.

Loki turned back to Thor who was still staring at his son. Thor swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. “He... he certainly has grown.” His voice sounded faint.

Loki smiled. “That he has.” He stepped closer, nodding his head in a welcoming gesture. “Hello, Thor.”

He straightened as Thor directed his attention towards him.

The Thunderer was, as always, a sight to behold.  
Tanned, his blond hair wind-swept, he stood tall, his golden armor shining in the light of the fire.  
There was a new scar on the back of his left hand and on the right side of his neck.  
He looked healthy, heavily-muscled, not a single gray hair on his head, his eyes still sharp as they flicked over Loki´s form.  
And yet the years had left their mark on the Odinson.  
They had dug deep lines onto his forehead and around his eyes, leaving a hint of bitterness around the corners of his mouth. There was a new weariness to Thor´s movements that Loki had never noticed before.

He looked tired.  
Worn.  
_Sad._

Loki had the sudden urge to step up to him and let his fingers run over the sunburned cheeks, ached to feel the warmth under his fingertips.  
He could feel the bond pulsate inside of him, like a living thing that had woken and wished to escape.  
Heat was pooling in his gut.

Loki grit his teeth and ignored it.

For a short moment Thor´s face was open and he seemed almost vulnerable, but then something shifted and a cold mask slipped over his features. He raised his chin, voice hard and emotionless. “Loki. You wrote. What do you wish from me?” 

Well then.

Loki raised an eyebrow, indicating that he was well aware of the sharpness of the words directed towards him. However he continued to smile politely, pointing towards two cushioned chairs around a low table. “Please, Thor, take a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

Thor´s eyebrows knitted into a frown, and he shook his head. “It is fine. I shall not be staying long.” He continued to stare at Loki. “Speak, Loki. What do you require of me?”

Loki walked towards the little table in the far corner, letting his fingers glide over the row of bottles that were lined up there. His voice was soft, words spoken with ease. “Come, come, Thor. Where are your manners? Sit down, have a drink. We have not spoken for a while, after all.”

Thor stood frozen in his spot. “It was your wish not to speak to me, you have made that abundantly clear all these years ago. I have no time for it now. I am busy.”

Loki turned, his eyes sparkling. “You are right. I was not interested in talking to you. But that was a long time ago. Many things have happened in the meantime.” He smiled again. “Indulge me. Sit.”

Thor´s mouth thinned, the fingers of his right hand curled around Mjølner´s handle. “I am neither your puppet nor servant. Tell me what you wish. Otherwise I shall leave.”

Loki sighed, his fingers continuing to run over the bottles. “You are right. You are not my servant. That's what I used to be, if I remember correctly.” He turned around slowly. His smile faded, his eyebrows knotted as if he was in thought. “ But maybe servant is not the right word. I believe I was your _slave_.” He took a deep breath, straightened his chin. “All I am asking you is to do me the honour to sit down and have a drink with me.” Loki stared at Thor. “Please.”

Thor´s face was working as he ground his teeth together, lightening sparkling in his eyes.

Loki gave him time and calmly turned back towards the row of bottles, plucking one from the line-up. His heart thumped in his chest, hard enough that he could swear that it was audible in the otherwise quiet room.

He wondered if Thor would simply turn and leave.  
The way he looked at him at the moment – it was entirely possible.

He continued to take small, deliberate breaths as he played with the bottle in his hands. “I can offer you mead, but I am going to be honest – it is not the best. Not by far.” He turned, looking at the Odinson still standing by the fireplace, his fists clenched by his side. “It does not keep well in the cold, which is a shame, really.” He turned back towards the bottles, took two mugs and placed them in front of himself. “That´s why I started making ice wine, believe it or not.” He worked the cork out of a slender bottle and then sniffed at the opening. “It’s not the best neither, I am not going to lie. But this is the first batch of drinkable Icen wine from Jötunheimr. And I am pretty sure you are not going to go blind.” Loki smiled as he poured the slightly milky liquid into the mugs. He placed the bottle back and turned around, the mugs in his hands. “At least I am pretty sure that there won’t be long-term effects. Though I can give no guarantees.”

Thor had not moved an inch.  
He was still standing by the fireplace, his features cold, eyes trained on Loki.

Loki sighed, rolled his eyes. “Come on, Thor. Don´t make me beg you. Just sit. I swear to the Norns that I am not going to bite your head off. I just wish to talk.” He walked towards the small table set by one of the windows, set down the mugs in front of the two, comfortable looking chairs. “Or stand, if you will. I will speak either way.” He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.

For a long moment nothing happened.

Finally Thor seemed to make a decision, slowly moving towards Loki. His eyebrows were knitted together, he looked weary. “Just one drink. And no more. As I mentioned, I have little time.”

Loki smiled as he leaned back in his chair. “Of course. I will do my best to make this quick. Also, Thor?” He smiled lazily as the Odinson stopped next to the table, pulled out the chair. “You are repeating yourself.”

The scowl was back on Thor´s face, and he glowered at Loki, but he still sat down. He looked uncomfortable, his back straight and stiff, but when Loki raised his cup he reached out as well, fingers curling around the mug in front of him.

Loki leaned forward. “Skål, Thor. I thank thee for coming.” He took a sip, his red eyes never leaving the Odinson´s face. A mere second later the sour liquid of the Icen wine burned on his tongue, sliding down his throat like scorching acid, leaving a rough trail of bitterness in its wake. Loki suppressed the urge to pull a face, waited until it finally hit his stomach, spreading a soothing warmth there. He watched Thor as he raised the mug to his lips, grinning when the other sputtered and coughed a moment latter, spitting the liquid onto the floor. Thor blinked down at the mug in his hands, then stared at Loki, his eyes wide with disbelief. “This is vile! Are you trying to poison me?”

Loki huffed out a low laugh. “No. Of course not. As I said, it is not yet perfect. I am still working on the procedure.” He took another sip, furrowing his brow at the taste. “I am pretty sure that the grape has to stay on the vine longer to give it that extra sweetness. Maybe it needs more light.” He shrugged, carefully placing the mug back down onto the table. “Who knows. It is a work in progress, that´s for sure. But believe me when I say this batch is much better than the last three. Drinkable, even.”

Thor grimaced, shaking his head. “It is horrible.”

Loki laughed, the warmth of the alcohol spreading into his limbs, relaxing him. “Oh, I know. But Thor, you are supposed to be courteous and tell me that it is not too bad.”

A frown on Thor's face eased, if only a little. “That would make me a liar.”

Loki grinned. “Ah, yes, the Norns forbid that untrue words come over your lips. That would so be unlike you, wouldn´t it?”

Thor cleared his throat, lowered his eyes. He stared at the mug in front of him, shifting in his chair. “Where in all the realms did you get the seeds to plant ice wine?”

Loki shrugged. “Your mother send me a chest with a selection of crops years ago - when I build the very first ice house, remember? I decided to finally give those a try.” He smiled mischievously. “The nights can be long and dark, and I thought it would be nice to have something to soothe the loneliness.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Well, from what I heard you have not been lonely much.”

He seemed marginally more relaxed.  
Good.

Loki shifted in his seat. “I guess not. But the Icen wine is still something that may come in handy in the future. For example we could sell it as a luxury item to all those pompous rich people who don't know what else to do with their money.”

Thor´s eyes were sparkling. “First of all: It is shit. Just in case I am repeating myself. Second of all: How many rich people do you happen to know?”

Loki grinned; let the liquid rotate in his mug in lazy circles. “You, first of all.”

Thor could not suppress the flash of amusement that swept over his features. “I own all of Jötunheimr. You would sell me my own produce? And above all, this stuff?”

Loki let out a delighted laugh. “You know I would.”

Thor's mouth pulled into a reluctant smile. He pushed his hand through his hair as he continued to study Loki with his bright, blue eyes.  
Loki never dropped his gaze, trained it on the Odinson's.

Finally Thor cleared his throat. “Well. Ok. That is all nice and good, Loki. But you still have not told me what you wish of me.”

Loki nodded. “Yes, of course. Back to business.” He leaned back in his chair, his features now solemn. His voice was low. “First of all, I wished to offer you my sympathy. I heard about the death of your consort. And I am sorry.”

From the corner of his eye he could see the ease being wiped from Thor´s face in an instance, his fingers clenching around the mug he had picked up once more. “Loki!” His voice was little less than a hiss.

Loki shrugged. “I am sorry.”

Thor stared at him, his face paler than before. “Is that why you asked me to come? To offer your condolences?”

Loki shook his head. “No. But as you are here I felt it was important for me to show that I, at least, have good manners.” He leaned a little closer, his fingers folding into each other on his lap. “However I asked you here to discuss something different entirely.” Loki´s heart had started hammering once more, and he took a deep breath before he continued to speak. “I wish to make you a proposition.”

Thor grit his teeth together, his face still pasty. The sorrow shone brightly in his eyes. “Of course you do. Speak then. What is it you require?”

Loki raised his cup, took another sip. He relished the burn, placed the mug down carefully. Then he raised his eyes. “I thought of giving you another chance.”

Thor blinked. “I am sorry - You what?”

Loki leaned in, licked his lips. “My apologies. I forgot that I have to spell things out for you as one would to a small child. Therefore let me explain it to you so you will understand:: I wish to lay with you once more.” He cocked his head at the emptiness in the Odinson´s face. “Sleep with you. Fuck you. Do you need me to write it down?”

Something worked in Thor´s face, and then he slowly rose from his chair, his cheeks reddening. “Your jokes are not funny, Loki!”

Loki watched him calmly. “Not a joke. Not at all, actually. Or do you see me laughing?”

Thor hissed in a breath, held it for a moment. “ My consort just died! I am still grieving! And you - you take as many lovers as there are kernels of sand by the sea, and now I shall be one of them to lay with you? And why? Just to ensure my goodwill? Or are you simply that horny that you run out of people to fuck?” Loki was not sure, but he felt like he could hear thunder over the commotion of the storm. Thor was still snarling at him. “How dare you, Loki! How dare you ask me to come all the way to Jötunheimr to...”

Loki raised his hand. “Stop, Thor! Listen to me! Your anger is misplaced!” He waited as Thor closed his mouth, breathing heavily. He was towering over Loki, glowering down at him. Loki continued to speak in a soothing manner, his voice soft. “You misunderstand me. I do not wish to cheapen your memories of your last consort. ” His eyes sparkled as he slowly rose. “And neither am I am not interested in having any lovers beside you. If I would lay with you it would only be you, and no-one else.”

Thor stared at him. He blinked, once, twice, as if he was waking from a deep sleep. His voice was quiet. “Loki.” He shook his head slowly. “I do not understand. You said that you were repelled by me. Why? I mean... why would you wish to be with me now?”

Loki shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Thor huffed out a breath. “Does it matter? I don´t know. You tell me! You did not wish to be with me, told me how much you hated me, how I could never make up for the crimes I committed against you. And I understood, by the Norns, if I could have turned back time, I would have. So I did as you asked, Loki! I tried moving on. I tried forgetting you! But I could not, not for the longest of times. You were...” Thor took a deep breath. “I loved you, Loki. And letting you go – it was painful. It was the most painful thing I ever had to do.” Thor shrugged, his eyes wandering to the storm outside once more. “And then I found someone else, someone I could love, and I felt that I was finally... free again. Free from a love that had hurt you, free from being haunted, day and night, by your face, your words, from everything you are. And I was happy. And then Jane died and I was alone once more, and now you offer me... to...to...” Thor turned, his bright blue eyes burning into Loki´s red ones. “I can´t, Loki. I can´t lose you again. And I would. I know I would. I would do something wrong, touch you somehow that would make you remember, hurt you in a way that I would not mean to, and you would be gone again and I... I don't know if I could take it loosing you again. Actually, no. I know I could not. I am sorry, Loki. But I can´t.”

Loki stared at Thor. He slowly rose, now standing eye to eye to the tall Asgardian. He smiled softly. “I am impressed, Odinson. I am pretty sure that you have never spoken so many words at once. At least not as far as I remember.” He sighed, shrugged his shoulders. “Ok. I can understand what you are trying to say. You hurt. And so did I. But I think I found a way that we could be together without me being reminded of what you did to me. I believe I found a solution.”

Thor shook his head, his eyes bright with sorrow. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. “No, Loki. I am sorry. I don´t think I could...”

Loki raised his hand, let his fingers glide over the warm skin of Thor´s arm. The Odinson's eyes snapped open, staring down at the blue hand against his pink flesh. Loki smiled at him, stepping even closer. “No, Thor. Stop speaking. You see, I came up with a plan. And I would be willing to give it a try if you are.”

Thor was still staring at the blue fingers, cold against his warm skin. “What type of plan?”

Loki leaned in. “You see, Thor... we would have to start over. Start from the beginning. But we would do it differently this time.” He smiled. “For this to work I would need to be in control. I would want to be in charge. I need to feel safe and for that I would be the one too choose - when you get to touch me. When we fuck. How we fuck.” Loki grinned when he saw Thor`s eyebrows raise. “I do not submit to anyone anymore.”

Thor stared at him, his jaw working. “I... I don't...”

Loki hushed him. “You don't have to make a decision now. I know that you are still grieving. But maybe think about it, ok? Go home, take the time you need. You could give me an answer when you are ready. How does that sound?” 

Thor swallowed hard. There were faint drops of sweat gleaming on his forehead, and when Loki ran his fingertips along his arm gooseflesh pimpled in their wake. He raised his eyes. “I can... do that. Think about it.”

Loki nodded. “Ok. Good.” He watched as Thor took another deep breath, his mind clearly in turmoil. “There is one more thing, Thor. I want to be really clear and know that you understand what I mean when I say I want to be the one in charge.” His voice became lower, husky even. “You know how I said I would want to decide how we fuck? That means that I would get to choose to fuck you.” He smiled when Thor did not react, allowed a couple of heartbeats to pass. “Preferably up the ass.”

Loki could see the moment when Thor understood what he had just said. His eyes widened and then redness flushed his cheeks, turning them dark crimson. “You dare!” He stepped back, breaking the contact between himself and Loki.

There was a faint growl from Fenris in the corner, but Loki raised his hand to calm his son. Otherwise he did not move. “Of course I _dare_. You fucked me for years, after all. I have a cock. I want to put it to use as well. At least once in a while.”

Thor stared at him, appalled. “You... You wish to shame me! _Agr_ me!”

Loki´s eyes narrowed. “Huh. That´s an interesting way of putting it. Is being fucked the same as being shamed? Because then – yeah, I guess. I mean to shame you.” He smiled darkly. “Thoroughly.”

Thor stepped back another step, as if Loki was going to jump on him right there. His voice was no less than a hiss. “I am king! I shall not allow you to humiliate me in such a way, Loki, do you hear? I shall not!”

“Humiliation.” Loki straightened his back, stood taller. “Again, interesting choice of words. Just to get this clear, Thor, that day you ergid me, all that time ago – you wished to humiliate me? And you have shamed me every single night you took me to bed after? Is that how it was?”

Thor glowered at him. “No. Of course not.” He spat out the words as if they were bitter on his tongue. “That was different, and you know it!”

Loki´s voice was flat, his eyes narrowing. “Was it, Thor? Pray tell then, how was it different? How was it fine for you to fuck me against my will to save my life, but when I wish to take you to my bed to save our... dare I say, _relationship_... it is too shameful to even consider?”

Thor stared at him, his eyes sparkling. “You are mocking me!”

Loki shook his head. “I am really not. Please. Enlighten me!”

Thor shook his head. “You have a cunt. You were meant to be...” His paused for a moment when he saw the thunderous expression on Loki´s features, but still he continued. “You were meant to be Ergi. It was your fate. It was written on your skin! I, on the other hand...”

Loki´s face was cold. “You on the other hand what? What were you meant to be, Thor? What was your birth right? To be a soldier? A king? Raised to fuck, kill, defeat and conquer? Never the other way around, isn´t that right, Thor?”

Thor stared at him. “I shall not lose my honour to one of your games!”

Loki´s lips thinned. “One of my games. Yes. That is what this is. Nothing but a game.” He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing further. “You chose to take my honour against my will. You are right, of course, it has always been my fate to be ergid. After all, my father had carved my destiny into my skin the moment my horns curled, the moment it was clear that I would not grow up big and strong the way my Alpha brothers had. He cursed me to a live the life of the lowliest of the low because I was born with the wrong powers. But you, Thor – you could have helped me change my fate. Instead you decided to ignore the injustice that has always been done to me, adopted my father’s course of action because it fit your needs.” Loki´s eyes glittered with rage. “You doomed me to be what you wanted me to be because it was convenient for you. So tell me, Thor, was that a game as well? Was it?

Thor shook his head. “I am not having this conversation”

Loki closed his eyes, took a deep breath. And another. Then he slowly opened them to look at the Odinson standing a couple of steps away. His mouth curled into a fake smile. “You never even considered that I might have been born an Alpha, did you?”

Thor blinked. “Of course not.”

Loki nodded. “Of course not. Because, why should you? After all, my sexual preference was branded on my skin. And to dispute that you would have had to _think_ after all!” Loki turned, picked up his glass, staring down at the small leftover that was still at the bottom. He downed it in a single gulp.

Thor´s mouth was thin. “Only Warriors are Alpha´s.”

Loki rolled his eyes, turned back towards the Odinson. The alcohol burned in his throat and stomach, a good distraction from the anger that burned in his heart. He managed to keep his voice light, mocking even. “My father´s propaganda has always been very convincing. Not that it would have needed much to have an _idiot_ like you to believe in fairy-tales.” He raised his chin. “So let me explain it to you, my dear. Sexual orientation is not something that is defined by one´s powers or status. No. They are dictated by birth, by the needs and wants of a person. Not by what others around them suggesting or demanding them to be. Warriors can be Ergis and Mages can be Alphas. In the olden times Jötnar could choose their orientation, could even change it in their course of their life, and nobody batted an eye. The marks on a Jötnar skin were ones of history and standing. Only now do they represent the status of sexuality. “

Thor stared at him. “You lie.”

Loki´s face drained of blood, and he pressed his lips together tightly. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Fuck you, Thor.” He turned to the side and spat out, his disgust souring his mouth. “You took the rumours and decided yourself what you wanted to be best for me! You made my choice for me without ever asking my opinion. Well, no more.” He stabbed his finger into the broad chest of the Thunderer. “No one has considered that I may have been an Alpha if I had ever been given the choice! But I am telling you that I want to try it. I want to know what it means to be the one in power. And if you shall not oblige me because apparently your ass is worth more than my cunt, so be it. But I am not going to beg you. No more.”

Something was working in Thor´s face, but he did not reply. Finally, after what seemed like long minutes of silence, he shifted, his fingers curling around Mjølner´s handle. “Is that all?”

Loki nodded. He felt tired, all of the sudden. “Yes. That was all I wanted to speak to you about.”

“Ok.” Thor turned to leave.

Loki did not stop him.

He watched as the Odinson made his way to the door, throwing another, long glance at Fenris before he opened it. He turned back one more time, offering a small nod. “Good bye, Loki.”

Loki returned the nod. “Good bye Thor.”

And with that the king of Asgard and Jötunheimr stepped into the hallway and left the former prince of the Icen realm alone once more.

Loki felt his heart drop into the bottom of his stomach.

Well.

That was not how he had wanted this to go.

Not at all.

He needed another drink.


	43. Decisions to be made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Apologies for the entirely too long wait. With writers block and NaNoWriMo in the way I was a bit depleted and had to kickstart myself again. Therefore the chapter is a bit shorter than usual but I really wanted to put something out there. My Mojo is back though. Yay. 
> 
> Please note that the description of what an argr is was researched from what the Vikings apparently believed in. Or at least what the internet told me they believed. These ideas obviously do not represent my own opinion. Just in case you did not guess already.
> 
> Also – I really wanted to finish this story in 2016, but that is not likely to happen. Ah well. Had no other plans for 2017 anyway. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> x

Thor left Útgarðar only a little while after his meeting with Loki.  
During his sharp ride back, his mind was in a turmoil. 

Of all the things that he had expected Loki to speak to him about, offering to continue their relationship had not been one of them.  
Not in his wildest dreams.

However neither could he believe his former lovers outrageous request to argr him. A request so offensive and disrespectful that Thor was still in awe that it had even been put forward. As if Thor, in all that he stood for as the ruler of the mightiest of realms, would bow his head and lower himself to the floor to be taken and shamed as one would the meanest of spoils!

It was insulting and infuriating beyond words. 

Thor rode his steed hard, urging it on with the strong press of his thighs, snarling into the freezing cold. His emotions bubbled close enough to the surface for him to hear the faint growl of thunder over the howling wind. The urge to take Mjølner and slay something was twitching in his fingers. 

How dare Loki suggest what he had suggested?  
How dare he?

Thor grit his teeth against the onslaught of hail and snow, his eyes narrowed against the freezing cold. His fists were tightly clenched around the reins as he screamed for Heimdall to take him home. He held his breath as he was pulled through the doorway that was the Bifröst, and he hardly hesitated when his horse landed on solid ground, immediately urging it back from a slow trot into a canter and onto the rainbow bridge. He indicated a nod at the Golden Seer whose eyes followed him as he rode past, ignoring the intense stare that spoke of deep knowledge and too much wisdom. Thor leaned over the curved neck of his sand-colored steed as his sharp hooves pounded on the colored ground beneath them, urging the animal to run even faster. 

When they finally arrived at the castle he slipped off the back before the horse had come to a complete halt, leaving the panting animal with one of the stable boys. 

He hardly hesitated, walking towards one of the smaller training areas in the royal gardens, away from prying eyes. There he stripped his fur coat, dropping the expensive pelts into the sawdust without a second thought. Clouds of thunder had already started darkening the sky when Thor pulled a heavy, wooden sword from one of the stands, twirling it in his fingers. 

If he could not kill something today, he could at least power himself out.

He swung the sword with two hands, his muscles straining as it crashed down upon the wooden dummy propped in the middle of the training ring. 

He grit his teeth against the painful jolt that ran up his arms, numbing them. 

He did it again.  
And again. 

As Thor powered himself out against his unmoving target, thoughts that he had tried to suppress bullied themselves to the surface, invading his mind. 

The problem, he realized, was that he used to love Loki with a vengeance.

Thor grit his teeth as he took another swing. 

His desire for the slight Jötun used to consume his entire thinking, his days and his nights. He used to long for Loki with a passion that had been rooted so deep in his soul that he felt like he was breaking apart when he had left him The loneliness that had followed had been all-consuming, like a bottom-less pit of sadness that he felt he would drown in. It had taken him decades, centuries even to rein in his unrequited devotion, to control it enough that he could spend hours, even days without thinking of Loki.

It had taken him even longer to love someone else. 

To finally let go. 

And now... now this. 

Thor snarled, bringing down his weapon against his wooden enemy with all his might. 

When he had seen Loki again, as beautiful as ever, had heard his voice and been subjected to one of his infamous tongue lashings - his old yearnings had come crashing back into him, had reminded him of what he had felt all these years ago.  
The desire.  
The passion.  
The need for companionship. 

It had reminded him of what he had lost. 

And Thor yearned once more. 

He yearned for cold fingers in his warm hands, for the sharp tongue that spoke the truth in ways he had never considered it, for the red eyes that mocked without the needs of words. 

He yearned for blue skin pressed against his, his hands combing through silky black hair as his tongue rasped along exotic, raised scars. He wanted to slide his fingers through forbidden folds and bury them deep inside his cool lover, wanted to hear hitched breaths and low groans, wanted to see Loki arch with need as he fucked into him, again and again.

Thor growled. He felt like he was loosing control, of himself, of his whole life that he had so carefully rebuild after Loki had left him. He smashed the wooden sword against the training dummy, channelling the blazing hot fury that threatened to consume him. He felt the sword splinter under his fingers and finally he stopped, heaving for breath. He stared down at the broken handle that jutted from his fist. A drop of blood welled from a cut in his finger, ruby red, collecting in a fat drop before it fell to the saw dust floor. 

Thor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

And another. 

And another. 

He could hear the thunder growling in the sky and forced himself to think of something else, of something warm and inviting. Of something good. 

Memories of Jane came to him, of her soft smile and warm, inviting body.

He took another breath, feeling himself calm. 

Jane had been a gentle moon where Loki was a burning sun, she had been a soothing balm where Loki left his soul to blister and scar. Her soft-hearted love had soothed Thor where Loki made him grey the sky with thunder. 

Thor opened his eyes as understanding dawned on him. 

Jane.  
He could have loved her until the end of his life.  
He could have been happy with her.  
But she was dead.  
She had left him to be alone once more. 

But, if he was honest, she had never been able to capture his heart the way Loki had. 

Loki had been the one who had taken his love hostage and conquered his soul, kept it in a cage that he was not sure he had ever been able to escape from. 

Thor used to love Jane. But he _burned_ for Loki. 

And if Jane had been his world.... then Loki was his universe.

And Thor knew would yearn for him until the end of all time. 

Thunder cracked above him as rain started to fall. 

Damn that little Jötun Mage to the deepest pits of Hel.

 

X

 

The coming weeks and months Thor tried to push the trip to Jötunheimr and the fateful offer into the back of his mind. He had to concentrate on the affairs of his kingdom, had to focus on requests of other realms and the issues that seemed to keep coming up, no matter how quickly he resolved them.  
There was too much work to be done for him to be distracted. 

However no matter how hard he tried, he could not free his mind of his former lover and the proposition that had been made. 

The words that had been spoken, they were like termites, little pests that kept gnawing at his mind like at a sturdy building, slowly wearing it down, bit by bit. No matter how often he pushed them away they came back, haunting him wherever he went, whatever he did. 

The offer Loki had made was preposterous. 

And not only that. 

It was demeaning.  
Ludicrous.  
Unfathomable. 

Impossible.

It darkened Thor´s mood to a point that he felt like he was going to drown in it.

And yet there was one thing he was certain of - his own callousness had brought them this far.  
His own inability to see Loki´s pain, his mistake to turn a blind eye to his former consort´s needs and ignore his suffering had placed a great wrong upon his shoulders.  
His debt towards Loki was great beyond compare.

But did his own failings mean that Loki had the right to treat him the way he had been treated?  
Would Thor giving in make up for his own sins?  
Would bowing his head really help cancel out the years of abuse he had submitted the slight Jötun to?

Thor haunted his own castle for hours on end as he pondered these questions,. 

His mother and close friends noticed how quiet Thor had become ever since Jane´s death.  
The all believed that he was still mourning the passing of his Midgardian consort and did their best to cheer him up – each in their own way.

Frigga asked him for more luncheons than usually, but he declined her careful offers to talk, appalled at the idea of revealing this particular problem to her. He had rather her believe that he was still grieving, that it pained him to loose two consorts and was left without an heir while he was about to reach the prime of his manhood. For of all the things he had spoken to his mother over the years, he was not too keen on asking her advice on whether to offer his ass to his zealous former consort.

No Sir. 

The Warrior Three and Sif meant to distract him otherwise, taking him for long rides and hunts, to caverns to drink and whore houses to fuck, hoping they could take his mind off what they believed to be understandable though maybe overdue mourning period. 

Thor was glad for their, if somewhat misguided, offers to help to divert his attention from the problem at hand. He rode his steed hard and tried to loose himself in the mead that they put before him, buried his worries deep between the tights of countless women.

He shied away from the male whores, no matter how beautiful they were. 

For he wondered what they felt like.  
Allowing themselves to be taken and argrd, again and again.  
Knowing that they, in the eyes of the Asgardians, were unmanly and therefore had no honour, no dignity to speak of.  
Understanding that they were regarded as the lowest of the low, allowing a man to mount them like one would a slave or a disgraced prisoner. 

Worthless. 

One had to understand that in Asgard, as long as it was remembered, a man argrd meant that he had lost his honour and pride, that he had was forever shamed with the stigmata of a coward. His reputation was, without fault, irrevocably damaged. For a man taken by another was no longer allowed to stand tall - he was deemed unfit to voice an opinion that was considered of value, could no longer give advice, or even join other soldiers to fight in battle. 

An Argr could never again be a leader.  
Or a king, for that matter. 

Thor understood that the whores in the brothels did their work from their own volition – but they were usually Elves or Vanir, stemming from cultures where the views on such things were much more liberal. 

However the Asgardians history was a violent one. Especially under Odin's father, Borr, had the act of argring an enemy or criminal been established as a common method to put everlasting shame on them and their house. The winner of a battle had the right to humiliate and humble a hated foe by pressing their faces into the dirt and claiming their helpless bodies with a single fuck.  
For men treated this way would never fight again. 

But a free man would never allow himself to be taken this way, never offered to be the passive partner.  
For to be argrd was the lot of the weak and defeated. 

So Thor would turn his eyes away from the beautiful males, some of whom reminded him of Loki, with their lithe bodies and long hair. 

For there was another question that started to gnaw at Thor's mind – what if Loki believed himself to be nothing more than a mean, worthless spoil of war that Thor had demeaned every time he had taken him to bed? What if he believed that Thor had deliberately shamed and disgraced him every time that they had made love?

Surely not.  
Nothing could have been further of Thor's mind.

But it dawned to him that, just maybe, that's how Loki might have perceived it. 

And if he considered that Loki believed himself to be an Alpha...

The very idea made Thor's cheeks burn with shame.  
If that, against all odds, was true – then the way he had treated Loki was even more blameworthy than he had previously believed.  
He would have used Loki against his nature.  
Hurt him again and again without realizing, without wishing to do so.  
While all he had ever wanted was to save his life and protect him from all evil. 

Thor tried to tell himself that Loki, after all, was visibly an Ergi, it had been branded all over skin.  
That he could not known any better. 

But he knew he could have.  
He just had to ask. 

Thor chewed on these thoughts like an old, toothless dog on a grisly bone.  
And the longer he thought about it, the more did he understand, if reluctantly, why Loki demanded to argr him. 

For if Loki had been forced to go against his nature, for all these years, he should be able to ask the same thing in return. Especially if they wanted to rebuild their relationship in a way that they both considered equal. 

As much as it pained Thor, he understood.

But he also knew that if allowed himself to be argrd by the former prince of their greatest enemy he put himself in grave danger. Loki would have knowledge about the demeaning act and he could use it to destroy him. He would be able to take everything from him – his manhood, his kingdom, even his ability to ever fight on the battlefield ever again.  
For Thor was not even sure if Mjølner would still answer his call if he allowed himself to be taken so low. 

So if he decided to allow Loki to touch him in such a way – it would be an immense act of trust. Trusting that Loki would never speak about it. Hoping that his former enemy, whom he raped in front of a crowd, had collared, imprisoned, forced to be his consort and carry his child, would keep the most shameful of secrets.

It was not the finest of plans. 

But he could think of nothing else. 

x

Thor allowed time to pass.

He ruled his kingdom with ever-growing wisdom, still brought peace to the realms that required it and fought his enemies where they dared to attack Asgard. Sometimes he felt himself drown in a flash of need and would visit the whore houses, exorcising his burning desire between the thighs of those who would not refuse him.

And the more time passed, the calmer did he become. 

For the hours that he spent thinking helped him crystallize the truth. 

Where Thor was white, Loki was black.  
Where Thor was the sun, Loki was the rain.  
And if Thor was the day, Loki was the night. 

An no matter what he did, whether he ate or rode, whether he fucked or drank, he never felt complete. 

He yearned for someone at his side.

And he knew that the only one that he wanted was Loki.  
Rare as it was, he had found his counterpart.  
The only person in the universe that would be able to make him right.  
The only person that could make him whole. 

Letting Loki was not an option.  
It never had been. 

And as he spoke with his friends, as he travelled through the realms and fought his enemies, he became calmer in his knowledge that he knew what he had to do. 

If there was a chance, small as it might be, he would do anything to get his former lover back into his arms. 

Even if it cost him his kingdom. 

Thor allowed the new-found realization sink in, anchor itself in his heart and his soul.  
And he understood that it was right and good – he felt calmer, almost serene with the choice he knew he was going to make. 

He gave himself another couple of weeks before he wrote two letters – one to Dellingr and one to Loki, informing them that he would be visiting the Icen realm in one month´s time. He knew that his administrator would be surprised by his next visit decades too early, but he trusted him not to comment on it. Loki, on the other hand, would understand what Thor wanted, even if he did not put anything down in writing. 

When the letters were signed Thor carefully sealed the thick, white envelopes with a drop of dark red wax, pressing his sigil ring into the cooling substance. 

One month. 

And then he and Loki would be lovers once more.

Either that or his entire world would fall apart. 

He would just have to wait and see.


	44. The longest month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there.
> 
> First of all – my apologies.  
> It took me more than three months until I felt like I could tackle this chapter.  
> I am not going to try to explain why it was so hard to write this, but, just so you know, writing loving, consensual sex was the hardest thing ever. My psychologist is having a field day over that, I can tell you as much.  
> Either way, it is finally done. I am excited to get on with my and the boys lives.  
> Also excited to start writing the rest of the story. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience and for leaving comments and kudos. I seriously love each and every one of you. 
> 
> P.S. If you are not into porn, then you should skip the second part of the chapter. Just saying. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

The following month passed faster and slower than it had any right to.

Thor could feel a coil of quiet tension in the pit of his stomach, but he did his best to ignore it.

Instead he tried to focus on his work.  
Nothing more, nothing less.

Still, every now and then he caught his mind drifting, when staring at a stack of paperwork, when listening to his someone speak, once or twice even in midst of a conversation.

Thor knew that the weariness he felt had started to show, manifesting in the deepening lines on his face and the dark smudges under his eyes. His friends did comment that he should maybe take some time for himself, to relax and unwind, to get his mind off things.  
They told him that they were worried for him, for his health, for his peace of mind.

If only they knew.

Thor nodded and smiled whenever the concern was brought up, telling everyone that he would consider taking a couple of days in a month or two.   
After all, if the worst happened, if Loki betrayed his trust and outed him – well. He would then have more than enough time to relax.  
Probably the rest of his life.

But for now – for now he was still king.

So he worked.

Watching time pass more slowly and at the same time quicker than it had any right to.

For while the days seemed to go by in somewhat of a blur, the nights lasted forever.

Thor had trouble sleeping, tossing in his sheets, staring out into the night sky, the spread out galaxies he saw from his window. His mind allowed him no rest. Sometimes he wandered through the royal gardens, haunting the cool darkness like a restless ghost. Other times he stayed in his chambers, sometimes reading to quiet his mind, other times simply laying in his bed, hoping that his heavy limbs and bone-deep weariness would allow him to slip into a slumber.

Usually he had no such luck.

He would then stare up at the dark canopy of embroidered stars over his bed, hardly distinguishable in the darkness. His fingers would idly stroke over the silks and linen that surrounded him, the motion soothing in its repetitiveness. 

And yet pictures and ideas haunted him, pushing the hope of sleep too far away.

For Thor wondered what the future would bring.  
If he could dare to hope for Loki to take him back.  
If he would love him once more.  
Or if Loki would, in the end, betray him and he would lose everything.  
And then what he would do?  
Where would he live?  
Would his friends stand by him or turn away, disgusted by how far Thor had fallen, all for the sake of love for an enemy?

It made his eyes burn and his fingers clench into the sheets below him, the simple fact that he did not know.  
That he could not even _guess_.

And ever so often his mind went on different paths all together.  
Then Thor would not worry about what might happen but instead looked closer at the functionalities of the act that he would subject himself to, what he would allow Loki to do.  
He wondered if it would hurt.  
Whether Loki would be gentle or if he would be rough, whether he would make Thor feel the pain that he had caused himself, simply to get back at him.  
And sometimes, when the night was very old and he felt like drowning in exhaustion, he wondered if he would enjoy it.  
Usually that thought alone would jolt him back into awareness, his whole being fighting against the shame of the mere thought.

Of course he would not enjoy it.  
Of course not.  
He was not born to be argrd, after all.  
He was not a defeated weakling who craved to have a cock up his ass.

No.  
Not ever.

That was usually the point when Thor rose from the sheets to find himself a book, reading until the first of the suns rose. Sometimes he would wake late in the morning, slumped over his desk, pages creasing under his fingers, his neck stiff with the awkward position he had fallen asleep in.

And then there was another day to live through, another day to face the world.

Thank the Norns he had only given himself a month.

x

Finally the day to go to Jötunheimr was upon him.

Thor had gone to drink with the Warrior Three and Sif the evening before, his mind blessedly empty by the time he had staggered to his chambers, passing out the moment his head hit the pillow.

He woke early the next morning, even before the second of the suns had risen.  
His mouth was dry, tasting as if something had curled up inside of it and died in the course of the night.  
Thor rose slowly, rubbing his fingers over his face.  
He had a faint headache, and so he sat on the edge of his bed for a long moment before he finally pushed himself to get up. He walked towards his bathing chamber, his naked feet making a soft padding sound on the carpeted floor.  
He took his time to wash himself, sweating out the rest of the alcohol in the steaming tub before lowering himself into a cool bath, gritting his teeth at the frigid temperature. He repeated the procedure three times in total, scrubbing at his skin with a rough cloth to remove any excess dirt, until his skin was unaccustomedly soft under the calloused pads of his fingertips. By the time he was done his headache was almost gone, and he felt clean and refreshed, his tiredness swept away.  
He took his time combing his hair and shaving himself carefully, even trimming the edges of his beard, ensuring himself in the mirror that everything was clean and even.

Thor took particular care to choose his clothes. First he pulled on a grey leather pant that was embroidered with silver thread, pulling on a black linen shirt over which he laced an armoured leather vest. He took out the thick, red cape he favoured for the icy weather of Jötunheimr, the collar and hood lined with heavy pelts.

Last but not least he collected a few necessities in a saddle bag and laced it closed, then folded the cape over his arm and left his chambers.

By the time he stepped out of a side entrance into the gardens the second of the five suns was just starting to rise.  
Thor stopped for a moment and closed his eyes.   
Early as it was only a few birds were already singing their morning songs.  
Thor took a deep breath, enjoying the sharpness of the fresh, cool morning air in his lungs.   
Mist was still curling lazily over the walkways and he took his time as he walked, allowing the serenity of his surrounding to ground him. 

He made his way to the stables where he told the sleepy stable-boy to curl back in the straw – he would tend to his steed himself. He stroked the soft nuzzle of his beautiful animal, feeding him two carrots, watching as he crunched the sweet treat. Then he took his time brushing the already gleaming white coat, stroke after calming stroke. When he was done he spread a red blanket onto his broad back, his royal insignia embroidered on both sides. Then he saddled him, pulling the belt under his belly before tightening it, checking the length of the stirrups before finally placing the bridle over his head.

It was something he had done many times before, a soothing task that he knew how to perform without thinking about it, and by the time he hoisted himself into the saddle his mind was much calmer.

Then he made his way to Jötunheimr.

 

x

By the time Thor arrived in the capital of the Icen Realm, it was still well before noon. He passed the reins of his steed to one of the soldiers before he made his way into the castle, all the way to the throne room.

The first thing that Thor noticed was that Dellingr had aged considerably over the years.   
His face was furrowed with lines, the most renounced around his eyes and mouth. His words, raspy with the cold, were full of disdain and contempt towards the Jötnar, his dislike even more pronounced than it had been when he had first been appointed to this role.

As predicted Dellingr did not ask Thor why he had returned so soon after his last visit.

Instead, right after the greetings, they sat and went over the stacks of paper that were laid out on the desk, discussing food distribution and the continuation of the repairs, the small amounts of contribution that arrived from the outer regions, the amount of soldiers that were still required to keep the peace within the city walls of Útgarðar. 

Apparently, and this was something that Thor had previously not been aware of, small acts of localized resistance were flaming up all over the realm – Asgardian guard houses that were systematically destroyed, small hordes of thieves stealing the food that was heading for the capital, destruction of roads that had just been previously rebuild, random attacks on single Asgarian soldiers. It seemed like all of the incidents were isolated, but when they went over them together a grim pattern of an organized setup emerged. Dellingr was angered and had decided that the next Jötun that was caught red-handed to be made an example of. With a heavy heart Thor had to agree that resistance of such a magnitude could not be tolerated. If he was honest it surprised him that Jötnar, usually slow at thinking and rather-heavy handed, who had always fought as individuals would now get together to execute such a tightly-knit resistance. 

They discussed the incidents in depth and came to the conclusion that a statement would have to be made, warning all Jötnar of joining the attacks against the Asgardian. As of that day every Jötun caught in the act of aiding violence against their rulers would receive up to twenty-five lashes at the whipping post followed by hard labour or imprisonment.   
Hopefully the severe penalties would help undermine any future resistance.

Furthermore Thor decreed that all Asgardian soldiers from now on were to leave their quarters only in teams of two or three. Food deliveries would be accompanied by three or more Jötnar, all of whom would be held responsible for its safe arrival in the capital. Main roads would be patrolled more heavily and the Asgardian soldiers were allowed to make use of their weapons if in any way threatened.

If none of that helped, they would have to decide on more severe measures.

After a long afternoon of discussions, Dellingr took Thor to look at the most recent building sites and new ice houses, talking over any potential improvements that could be considered in the future. 

They finished their day soon after with a dinner in Dellingr´s private dining room, followed by a cup of heavy mead. Thor excused himself as soon as he felt it feasible, taking his leave early. He clasped at Dellingr´s shoulder before he stepped out into the hallway, taking a deep breath.

And instead of turning right to make his way into the Asgardian wing to his own chambers, he turned left towards the Jötun sleeping areas.

Finally, _finally_ after a long month of waiting, he was on his way to meet Loki. 

x

The hallways were as empty as ever – there were still too few people around when compared with the sheer size of the capital. It meant that Thor was undisturbed as he walked, his heavy steps echoing along the cool walls. He realized very quickly that the path he had taken was hardly lit, and he turned to retrieve a torch from its halter to light up the darkness that surrounded him.

He climbed a flight of stairs and then another, each step taking him closer to Loki´s chambers.  
A small knot of trepidation had formed in the pit of his stomach, a mixture of anticipation and dread that made the saliva in his mouth bitter and his fist clench at his side. Thor decided to ignore it as he continued on his way, until he finally reached the correct floor and turned into the hallway that led him to Laufey´s former rooms.

He raised his head and stopped. 

Loki stood just a couple of paces away, next to a much larger Alpha, their backs turned towards him. Both were concentrating on a stack of paper that Loki held in his hands, quietly talking to each other. 

Thor froze.

The large Alpha looked ancient; his broad, bony shoulders curled forward, his thin, wasted body leaning heavily on a walking stick. 

But Thor’s eyes were drawn to his former consort instead. 

Loki stood tall, his head inclined, his fingers tracing over the paper as he murmured under his breath.

He was as beautiful as ever.  
If not even more so.

The soft roundness of his youth was long gone, his body now a little thinner than it used to be, all sharp angles and wiry hardness that was only softened by the circular marks of his Ergi status. His horns shone like mother of pearl, the thick golden rings encircling their base the only jewellery he wore. His pitch-black hair fell in soft waves well past his shoulders, kept in place by several braids that ran from his temple and were gathered in the back of his head. Loki´s upper body was naked, adorned by nothing but his own flesh and branded history.  
Tight black leather pants rode low on his hips, trimmed by complicated lacing that ran all the way down to his naked feet.   
Thor blinked.  
These new clothes were unusual, so very different from the billowy pants that Loki used to wear when he was younger - it added to the impression of severity and sharpness that the slight Jötun´s body now seemed to convey.

Thor continued to stand in silence for a couple of heartbeats, then he realized that the two Jötnar were so absorbed in their quiet discussion that they would not notice him from their own volition. So he took a deep breath and stepped forward. 

He must have made a sound, for Loki´s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing before recognition swept over his features. He straightened and raised his chin. His face conveyed no emotion whatsoever. “Thor!” He nodded his acknowledgement, his glittering eyes never leaving Thor´s face.

Thor returned the nod, his voice carefully even. “Loki.”

The Alpha next to Loki turned, his face deeply furrowed with lines that the centuries had dug into his skin. His eyes lit up, the brightness within them belying the elder´s age. A crooked grin slid over his features. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Loki turned towards him, voice carefully even. “Ulf. If you will excuse me. I have an appointment.”

The Alpha nodded and Thor thought he could see a glint of what might have been amusement sparkling in those old eyes. His voice was brittle as he answered. “I can see that.” He slowly turned, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He took the papers that Loki held out out, cradled them in the crook of his arm. His eyes swept over Thor once more, and his mouth tugged into another, loop-sided smile. “Your Majesty.” Without another word he started shuffling down the hallway, into the darkness, his walking stick scraping over the stone floor. 

For several moments Thor and Loki simply stood and watched the elder walk away, until his steps faded into the background of the never-ending howling of the Icen storms.

And then... then they were alone.

Just the two of them, standing in a long hallway, staring at each other

Thor shifted, a strange mixture of excitement and apprehension blooming in his stomach, turning his skin first hot, then cold. He balled his hands into fists and released them to ease some of the tension that was curling through his limbs. Loki´s eyes shot down, taking in the movement before he looked back up. His mouth pulled into a small smile. “Thor. It is good to see you.”

Thor shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He felt strangely _shy_. “Loki.” His voice sounded rough in his own ears. “It is good to see you too.”

The smile on Loki´s face broadened, revealing a long row of white teeth.  
They stood for a long moment, then Loki inclined his head towards his chambers. “Would you like to come in?”

Thor nodded, clenching his fists at his side once more. “Yes. Please.” He shifted his saddle bag further onto his shoulder, watching as Loki turned and made his way towards the door. There he pushed down the handle, swinging the door open. Loki looked at him and stepped to the side, indicating Thor to enter. “After you.”

Thor hesitated only for a moment.

This was it.  
If he wanted to turn around, now would be the time.  
If he wanted to run....  
Flee…

But no.  
Of course he would not run.  
He was the mighty Thor, ruler of Asgard, emperor of realms.  
He was no coward.  
He would not run.

If Loki had noted the slowing in his step he did not comment on it. Instead he waited patiently for Thor to enter his chambers before he stepped in as well, pulling the door closed behind him. He pointed towards a small, crooked chair in the corner. “You can put your bag there.”

Thor nodded, and did as he was told. 

Then he had a look around. 

For a moment he was taken aback.  
Laufeys old chambers were a far cry from what they once used to be.

Where the rooms once had been bare, void of nothing but a few necessities, they were now welcoming and warm.

Along the wall opposite of them was a small fireplace, a green fire flickering happily, warming the room without, strangely enough, melting the ice around it. Four suspended orbs hovered just below the high ceiling, dipping everything around them into a soft warmth, illuminating the walls that were covered in pictures and tapestries, some which Thor recognized from Loki´s rooms in Asgard. The enormous bed still dominated the room, large enough to hold two full-grown Frost Giants. Though where it once had been covered only in a single thin sheet it was now hidden under piles and piles of furs and pillows, giving testament to Loki´s usually well-hidden taste for creature comforts.

In his right-hand corner was a small table that held several quills and pots of ink, scrolls and books spilling from its surface onto the floor. The chair in front of it was the one that Thor had placed his bag onto, and his fingers curled around the leather strap for a moment before he turned back to Loki. He smiled awkwardly when he was faced with an intense stare from burning, red eyes. He cleared his throat, shifted on his feet. “I like what you did to the place.”

Loki stared at him for a moment longer before he inclined his head. “Thank you.” There were several heartbeats of silence before he spoke again. “I am glad that you decided to come.”

Thor nodded. “So am I.” A moment later a small smile crept over his features, and he shrugged. “At least I think I will be. Not sure yet.”

The laugh that Loki let out was startling in its honesty, clear like a bell. “Ah, yes.” He stepped closer, his stare intense. “Don´t worry. I will make sure that you will have no reason to complain.”

Thor raised his eyebrows. “Well. I guess that is a relief.”

Loki smiled. ”I am sure it is.” He allowed a couple of heartbeats to pass before he continued speaking. “Can I offer you something to drink?” He raised his chin, a mischievous glitter sparkling in his eyes. “Some ice wine, perhaps? The last batch turned out slightly sweeter.”

“No.” Thor blurted out without a second thought. He straightened his spine and shook his head, the memory of his last taste still too vivid in his mind. “No, thank you.”

Loki could not suppress his own amusement at the reaction, the smile playing on his lips. “Something else then? Ale? Water?”

Instead of answering Thor turned back towards his leather bag, unlacing the front. He rummaged through its contents before he pulled out a large, clay flask. “I brought mead.” He offered it to Loki who stepped up, taking it with a smile. “I remember the difficulties that you have accessing certain things, and thought I would bring some drink along.”

Loki weighed the bottle in his hand. “Thank you. How very thoughtful.” He was still standing very close, close enough to touch, to caress...

Thor felt heat bubble under his skin at the proximity of his former lover. He cleared his throat again. “You are very welcome.” He stared at Loki for another couple of heartbeats, taking in the long lashes and the contours of the brands on his face before he turned back to his bag once more. He searched through it until he found the long package wrapped in a thick layer of paper. “I brought you something else.” He slowly unwrapped the packet, revealing a second bottle, this one slender and made from fine glass. “I brought ice wine. _Real_ ice wine. From Midgard.” He raised his eyebrow, keeping his tone neutral. “You know, for comparison.”

Loki grinned at him as he took the second bottle, the liquid inside clear as water. “Thank you.” He cocked his head. “Though after your reaction I would say that this is rather self-serving of you.”

Thor smiled, showing his palms in a peaceful gesture. He felt himself relax, thankful that Loki took his present in good humour. “You are right, course. I was pretty sure that I would require a drink before the night was over.”

Loki laughed. “Fair enough. Mead first?”

“Sure.” Thor slowly peeled himself out of his thick coat. The air in the room was warm enough to be comfortable, though it was still chillier than he usually preferred. However Thor understood that the temperature was quite a bit higher than Loki would probably choose for himself, and he was thankful for the small kindness that was offered.

Loki returned with two mugs in his hand, offering one to Thor. “Here you go.” He watched as Thor curled his fingers around it, raising his own. “Skål, Thor. To us.”

Thor lifted his cup, inclining his head. “To us.”

He took a large gulp, the mead smooth as it made its way through his throat into his stomach, lighting a small fire there.

Loki licked his lips slowly, nodding in appreciation. “This is nice. I have not had good mead in...” He made a face, then shrugged. “Well. In forever.”

Thor nodded. “I can imagine.” His eyes flicked around the room one more, searching for something to talk about. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “So...” He twirled the mead in his cup. “How have you been, Loki? How is your school? Has everything been going... well?”

Loki studied him for a moment, his mouth once more pulled into a mocking smile. “Good. Everything is going well. Thank you for your concern.” He placed his cup down onto the small table situated next to the door, walked towards him, stopping right in front of him. His eyes glittered as he raised his chin, mouth close enough to kiss if Thor leaned forward only slightly. His voice was a low purr. Sinful, almost. “Thor... are you really here to make small talk? It has never been a strength of yours, after all.”

Thor felt his throat constrict, he coughed to clear it. “No... No I am not.”

“Good. Neither am I.” With those words he lifted his hands and curled them around linen and furs of Thor´s clothing, pulling him closer. 

Then Loki leaned in and kissed Thor. Softly.

Thor froze. 

He closed his eyes as soft lips rubbed over his, breathing heavily as Loki nipped at his lower lip gently. The kiss was innocent and sweet, so very different than what Thor used to remember, and it made his heart clench in his chest. 

After just a few moments Loki withdrew, his his gaze burning into the blues of the Odinson, which in turn were clouded with longing and trepidation. Thor´s breath rumbled deep in his chest. “Loki...”

Loki smiled sweetly. “Let´s skip the small talk, what do you say?”

Thor nodded. He sucked in a sharp breath when Loki nuzzled against where his chin met his neck, nipping and licking at stubbled skin, his tongue cold against hot flesh. His body was filled with confusing emotions, heat and desire mixing with unease of what was to come. 

However when Loki took his hand and guided him towards the large bed, he did not hesitate.

He stared down at the furs and pillows piled upon the bed, shivering slightly when he felt a light touch on the small of his back, steadying him. “Have a seat, Thor.” Loki´s voice was right next to his ear, a gust of cool breath painting his cheek. “I am going to get some of the ice wine you brought – would you like to have some as well?”

Thor slowly turned and sat down, his fingers curling into the soft pelt beneath him. “Sure. Yes. Thank you.”

Loki hummed and turned, taking the empty cups that had held the mead and filling some of the wine from the glass bottle. He sniffed at it before he returned to Thor, offering him one of the cups. Thor took it with a nod, watching in silence as Loki sat down next to him, curling his legs underneath his body. He could feel his flesh pimpling when Loki leaned in, pressing his arm against his own, much warmer skin. The knot in his belly tightened, a strange feeling spread through him, like electricity running from where Loki touched him, lightening shooting up and down his spine.

Loki´s eyes were trained on him, but he did not convey any emotions as he raised his glass again. “Skål, Thor.”

“Skål.” Thor waited for Loki to take his first sip, then raised his cup as well, drinking deeply from the sweet, heady wine. When he lowered the cup he saw Loki staring at him, eyes glittering with something he was not sure he understood.

“So...” Loki smiled, leaning a little closer, pressing more of his naked arm against Thor's. “Here we are.” He cocked his head. “I must be honest, I was not sure whether you would actually come.”

Thor shrugged, stared down into the clear liquid still pooling at the bottom of his mug. He was not sure how to answer, and he was glad when Loki continued speaking. “I am sure that it was not an easy decision.” Thor stiffened when he felt Loki´s hand rub over his thigh, squeezing it just above his knee. He swallowed, licking his lips against the dryness that suddenly was making it hard to speak. He shrugged. ”I guess not. No.”

Loki hummed, continued rubbing in a soothing manner. “My, you are so eloquent today, Thor. What is the matter? Cat get your tongue?”

Thor blinked, mesmerized by the blue hand on his trousered knee. He could feel his cock stirring in his pants at the sight and familiar weight alone. “What do you want me to say?”

Loki huffed, and Thor could see him roll his eyes in his sockets. He seemed to consider what to do next, and then Loki slowly stood, facing Thor. “Nothing, really. After all, you are just here to be fucked, am I right?” With those words Loki leaned in, curling his hands around the leather fastenings of his armour, and with grace climbed onto his lap.

Thor just blinked at him as he settled, slotting both knees just beside his hips, his arms curling around Thor´s neck. He was still staring as Loki leaned in closer and pressed another chaste kiss to his lips. Then Loki sat back, his eyes roaming Thor´s face. “Before we begin I guess we should go over the rules.” 

“The rules?” Thor felt like his voice was embarrassingly rough, and he could not suppress the grimace at hearing it.

Loki smiled, tugging at a closure at the side of Thor´s body. Thor followed the hands as they worked over buckles and fastenings, staring at them. Loki´s nails were painted a deep black. His eyes flicked back up when Loki continued talking. “The rules.” He agreed. “As I said, I am glad you came. But this...” He looked up, studying him for a moment. “This can only work if you follow certain guidelines.” He hummed under his breath as he focused back on the closure, sliding it through the buckle, opening it. “Not a lot, mind you. Just a few.”

Thor nodded. “Okay, I guess. What...what are they?”

Loki grinned, fingers slipping up to the next clasp, tugging at it. “I am glad you asked. It is really very simple. Tonight, I wish to be in control. Here and now, you are the passive partner. You submit to my rules. Understood?”

Thor blinked. He had known that Loki would request something in these lines, but still... He cleared his throat. “But then what should I do?”

Loki pulled his mouth into a soft, if somewhat mocking smile. He raised his hands and then his fingers were ghosting over Thor's face, stroking over his lips, his thumb catching at dry skin. Thor’s breath hitched when Loki tilted his whole body forward, grinding his crotch against his cock. He was still trying to catch his breath when Loki leaned in to whisper into his ear. “You don't need to do anything.” A cool tongue flicked out, rasping along his warm skin, leaving patches of sensation in its wake. “You just lay back and let me do what you came for. If I want you to touch me...” Cool breath ghosted over wetness, making his skin burn with sensitivity. “... I will tell you. Okay?”

Thor bit his lip when Loki rolled his crotch down again, pressing hard against his own: He could feel his own cock thickening, rubbing almost painfully against the rough material of his trousers. He curled his fingers into the furs beneath him, blinking rapidly. He had never made love in that fashion, had always been in control, had always touched and worshipped his partners just the way he wanted to. As he had said, he was simply not sure what to do.   
But if this was what Loki needed for them to be together... “Okay.” He murmured. 

Loki leaned in and gently slotted his cool mouth against his lips, his tongue running along the seams, asking to be let in. 

Thor closed his eyes. 

He could taste ice and wind as Loki licked his way into his mouth, exploring him, painting his insides with his coolness. The taste, a mixture of Loki and hints of the sweet Icen wine they had shared was accompanied by memories, some of them good, most heavily laced with guilt.   
Loki hummed as he kissed, slowly, leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world and nothing better to do than this.  
And maybe he didn´t. 

This kiss was deep and earnest, and Thor could fell a wave of want wash through his stomach, settling in his groin.   
He groaned, softly. 

Loki hummed in response, tongue dancing against his own. His fingers were once again pulling at strings and opening buckles, peeling him out of his armour while Thor felt like he was falling apart. And then it was finally off, Loki pushing it over his shoulders, freeing him off the confines. He deepened the kiss for a moment, hands clenching into the linen of Thor´s under-shirt, pulling him even closer before he leaned away, breaking the kiss. A thin strand of saliva connected them for a heartbeat before it broke, delicate, like the thread of a spider. 

Loki smiled at Thor. His lips looked slightly swollen, dark purple and flushed. However his voice was calm and collected as he spoke. “Now why don´t you strip your clothing and I take you bed?”

Thor's heart clenched at the command. For a moment he had gotten lost in the coolness of Loki's mouth, and while he had never forgotten why he was here, the pleasure of kissing had pushed it in back of his mind.

Loki climbed from his lap and stood, taking a step away. He watched Thor with dark, hooded eyes. 

Thor took a deep breath.   
He could feel his half-hard cock shifting against his own skin, lengthened and warm with desire. Loki had done nothing but kiss him, and already his body craved him, wanted him.   
He raised his hand, fingers gliding over his chest. Loki had removed most of his armour, leaving him in his shirt, pants and boots. He took another look at Loki who was watching him closely, realizing that his hesitation only postponed the inevitable. So he leaned forward and started unlacing his boots, one by one, pulling them off his feet with a certain amount of effort. He took off his socks, flexed his toes before placing his feet back onto the floor, grounding himself.   
Then he raised his arms and grasped his shirt, pulling it over his head with one, smooth motion. 

Another look showed that Loki was smiling at him, giving him a nod of encouragement. 

Thor nodded back and stood, his fingers strangely stiff as he pulled at the laces to open his trousers, hooking his fingers into the hem to push them down so they could pool at his feet. 

Then he looked up, returning Loki's burning gaze.

Loki´s eyes flickered up and down his body, and then he smiled. “All right. My turn.” His own hand lowered to the complicated laces that run along the sides of his tight leather pants, nimble fingers unfastening them quickly. He was focused on his work, but he threw Thor a quick glance, his eyes roaming his body once more. “Why don't you crawl under the furs? I would not want you to catch a cold, after all.”

Thor nodded. He _was_ feeling the cold, the fire not spreading enough heat for him to be truly comfortable. Also he felt strangely vulnerable, naked and on display as he was. So he did not hesitate as he sat back down on the bed and pushed himself all the way into the middle, pulling the thick, soft-to-the-touch furs over himself.  
His eyes never left Loki as he continued to undress. Loki had finished unlacing his pants, pulling at the string with practised efficiency. When he was done he simply pushed them down, past his narrow hips, stepping out of them without hesitation.

Thor swallowed dryly.

Seeing Loki completely naked confirmed Thor what he had noticed before – he was quite a bit thinner than he used to be, almost fragile, the light of the orbs casting fine shadows over where his ribs and hipbones drew fine lines under his skin.   
But on the other hand there was nothing delicate about the Jötun that stood in front of him.   
Loki radiated _strength_ simply by the way he held himself, the way his feet were planted firmly in the ground. He exuded a pride and quiet dignity in a way that he had never before. 

Thor`s eyes roamed, and he could not keep them from dipping lower, examining the slender cock that hung still flaccid between shapely legs, framed by the white brands that curled tantalizing over blue skin. 

The cock that would penetrate him soon enough.

Thor shifted, pulled the furs closer, as if they could protect him. 

Loki moved, lowering himself onto the bed where he then crawled, like some exotic animal, towards him. He flashed another smile. “All right then. Are you comfortable?”

Thor swallowed drily, and before he could answer Loki was above him, pushing him deeper into the furs with a hard kiss. Thor opened his mouth to pull in a sharp breath, and Loki accepted the invitation and drove his tongue deep inside, exploring his warm mouth. 

Thor´s first instinct was to reach up, to cup Loki´s face and stroke his fingers through his raven-black hair, but with the rules Loki had given him still fresh in his mind, he did not dare. His fingers clawed into the furs beside him, anchoring him.  
For he had made a promise.  
Not to touch.  
Not to take control.  
But, instead to allow Loki to do whatever he wished.  
And so he remained still like a statue as Loki licked his way into his mouth and thrust his tongue deep, again and again, his mind turning fuzzy with sensitivity and need.

Loki pushed his whole body against him, his too-thin frame pressing him into the bed. Then he shifted, sliding under the furs that Thor had piled on top of himself, joining him under the covers without ever breaking their kiss. He pressed his cold self against the heat of Thor´s flesh, making a humming sound of approval when Thor´s thickened length shifted, twitching at the contact with cool skin. Another slide of the tongue, another nip at his lower lip, and then Loki pulled away, his eyes glittering down at Thor. “You are already hard for me, Thor. How flattering.” 

Thor could feel himself flush, blood rising from his face down to his chest, painting him crimson.

Loki grinned at him, as if he could see the turmoil in Thor´s mind, but instead of taunting him further he shifted to his knees and leaned in close, pressing closed-mouth kisses over his face. He moved, slowly, down to his neck, nibbling where pulse thundered underneath pink skin. He licked and sucked, blowing against the wetness, leaving small burning sensations in his wake. His cool hands roamed Thor´s body, greedy for contact. They circled over his nipples until they stood erect, plucking at them before he gave them a sudden, sharp squeeze. 

Thor grit his teeth, squirming under the teasing touch. 

Loki ran his tongue over the pebbled flesh while his hands trailed down further to where Thor's cock lay, half-hard in a nest of blond, wiry curls. He did not touch it for a while, his fingers running alongside his flanks, slowly, teasing, brushing over his length with his arm or the tips of his hair, as if by accident. 

Thor started panting when Loki moved his mouth lower, pressing kisses along his stomach, closer and closer to where his cock was yearning for attention. 

And then Loki stopped.

Thor looked up, straight into hooded red yes. Loki grinned at him, and then his cold fingers curled around Thor´s erection, squeezing it lightly. Thor gasped, the sudden contact with frigid skin shocking. He wheezed, shifting as Loki´s hand circled him, his palm swiping over the head of his cock where he had leaked small amounts of precome, slicking it down his length. Loki leaned down, tongue flicking against the hard plains of his stomach. “Relax.” He murmured. “You are so very tense.”

Thor started to shiver as he tried not to buck into the touch, into the clever fingers that worked up and down his length, squeezing him tightly every now before easing up, teasing him with his caresses. 

“Loki...” Thor gasped.. 

He could feel Loki smile against his skin. Long, soft hair trailed along his navel, down towards where his cock was being worked in a smooth rhythm. His fingers dug into furs, for he wanted to pull Loki up and kiss him, plunder him, throw him on his back and take him, own him... He ripped his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling, gritting his teeth as his desire started to mount.

Thor felt his cock twitch in Loki´s fingers, and then his back arched when Loki pressed a kiss against the tip, startlingly gentle. Loki licked an icecold stripe against his hot flesh, murmuring loud enough for Thor to hear. “Spread yourself, Thor. Put your feet up.” Fingers tugged under his knees, and Thor swallowed hard when he understand what was asked of him. Slowly, hesitantly, he set his feet to either side of Loki´s body, tenting the furs above him. 

Loki smiled again at him, now pushing himself up onto his elbows, his fingers still running along Thor´s hot cock. “Good. That´s very good, Thor.” Loki praised him while his fingers still stroked him slowly, the sweet ache of lust drilling into his spine, making his breath shaky. Loki leaned in, pressing his mouth against his shaft, kisses that were little more than ghosts of contacts, brief and fleeting. 

“Could you pass me the vial from underneath that red pillow? Over there?”  
Thor blinked. He looked around, distracted by the ring of fingers that was still working him, by the cold lips that pressed against him, again and again. He noted the red pillow and turned it over, blinking at the small bottle. He reached for it and passed it to Loki who took it with a smile. “Thank you.”  
Thor watched as Loki pulled out the cork, pouring a generous amount of a viscous liquid into his palm. 

Oil. 

Loki smiled up at him and then, without breaking eye contact leaned down, sucked the tip of Thor´s cock into his mouth. His hands slid down to his balls, slick fingers caressing them, tugging at them playfully. “Norns...Loki...” Thor breathed, shivering with the strain of keeping his fingers from reaching down, gathering black hair in his hands, to hold them while he watched those blue lips wrapped around his length. He closed his eyes when Loki took more of him in, as he swallowed him down until his lips touched wiry curls, the tight constrictions of Loki´s throat massaging him. He pulled his hand towards his mouth and bit into the soft flesh between his thumb and his index finger to keep himself from touching, caressing. 

He did not wish to ruin this before it had even begun. 

Thor moaned at another hard suck and then he froze when he felt Loki´s slick fingers slide past his balls, down to his perineum, massaging it with light pressure. He ripped his eyes open, staring down to where Loki´s head was bobbing up and down, sucking him deep just to release him, his clever tongue working him expertly. 

And while his mouth made Thor want to come undone, his fingers rubbed over his entrance, spreading slick in a soothing, repetitive movement without ever dipping in. Cold skin burned on heated flesh, and Thor could not help himself from clenching, as to protect himself what was about to happen.

Loki continued to suck and stroke him, but soon enough he released Thor´s cock with low pop from his mouth, his voice soothing. “Relax, Thor. Let me help you enjoy it.” He pressed another kiss against his cock, distracting him with his mouth moving against his flesh. “Take a deep breath.” And Thor did, sucking in air as if he was drowning, again and again, slowly allowing the repetitive movement of slick fingers against his opening lull him. When he had relaxed Loki pressed against him, and without giving Thor the time to tense his cold finger slipped into Thor´s warm body with little effort. 

Thor gasped then held his breath, but when Loki swallowed his cock down once more and his tongue started doing wicked things, his breath was punched out of him again. Loki used the distraction to push his finger deeper, all the way to the second knuckle before pulling out, then pushing back in just a little bit further, fucking him slowly, leisurely.

Thor gasped, his bent knees shivering. 

The feeling was so very strange.  
Invasive.  
Unnatural.

Bizarre, really.

Thor bit his lip until he felt the taste of copper wash into his mouth, licking at the wound, the sting distracting him. He knew that tensing his muscles would only work against him, and he made a conscious effort to loosen himself, to allow Loki to work him open as needed. 

Loki continued licking and sucking his cock, his clever mouth doing things that distracted Thor from the finger that worked its way into him until it was buried all the way to the third knuckle, again and again. Thor shifted, his own fingers clenching into soft furs. The feeling of _wrongness_ eased, and while the act of having a finger up his ass still felt strange, Loki was now thrusting into him in the same rhythm as he slid his lips over his cock, mixing the feeling of pleasure with the sting of being worked open. 

He must have loosened up for soon after Loki pushed a second finger into him and Thor´s head dropped into the furs. There was a burn now, one that he knew he could abate with time, if Loki did not rush it and he accepted what was happening with him. He hissed out a breath when Loki pulled off him, leaving his saliva-shining cock in the cold air, nipping at the base with sharp teeth. Again red eyes stared at him, mouth pulled into a smile. “How are you doing, Thor?”

It did not help that he continued to fuck him with his fingers, in and out, in and out, making coherent thoughts difficult.

“Good” Thor grit out. “Just...just get on with it.”

Loki laughed softly. He shifted back and went down to his stomach, and a moment later Thor could feel his tongue ghost over his balls. He could feel blood rise in his cheeks when he realized that Loki must be starting at where his blue fingers were buried deep inside of him, coring him out, stroking his insides as if they belonged there.   
Another sharp nip that had Thor flinch, the movement pressing the fingers even deeper. He growled at Loki´s soft laugh, squirming when Loki licked a long stripe over his perineum, along where his fingers were sunk inside of him, mixing his saliva with the slick that he had spread out.   
Loki shifted and trailed gentle kisses along Thor´s thigh, pushing at them to spread him wider, opening him up to his ministrations. He was now kneeling between Thor´s legs, staring down at him, and with a start Thor realized that he was still hard, still leaking precome against his own skin, sticky and warm. 

Loki lingered with two fingers, the rhythm now firm, increasing the pressure as he pushed in and out of Thor´s ass. And then Loki grazed something inside of Thor, something that made heat coil and spool through his internal organs, and he had to keep back the cry from spilling from his lips, lifting his ass, unsure if he wished to escape or push the fingers deeper. 

“There you are!” Loki crooned the words and pressed against the spot again, setting Thor's lower body ablaze. And then a third finger was pushed into him, and the sting that came with it was lost when Loki took him into his mouth again, swallowing his cock down, too many sensations battling over his body. 

Thor stiffened when he felt the heat pool in his groin, spreading, and he realized that if this went on he would orgasm sooner rather than later. He he ripped his eyes open, his whole body tensing at the thought of coming from this inappropriate, humiliating act before it had even begun. 

Loki slowed the movement of his hands, grinding his three fingers deep, stopping. He sat up, and when Thor looked at him he could see his mouth glistening with saliva, lips slightly swollen. His eyes were dark and hooded, and his own cock was erect, laying heavily between his legs.

“Are you all right, Thor?”

Thor nodded. His mouth was dry. “Yeah.”

Loki smiled at him. “You should roll onto your stomach. It will make things easier from here on out.” The hand that was not buried deep inside his ass glid over his legs up to his cock, squeezing it affectionately. 

Thor felt as if a cold snake had slithered down along his spine, and he shook his head automatically, without thinking. “No.”

Loki cocked his head while his hands continued to work him, fucking him, stroking him. “It will make it easier for you.” He repeated. 

Thor gasped when Loki grazed that spot inside of him again, bucking into the hand that held him tightly. “I don´t want easy.” He grit out. “I need to see your face.”

And he did.  
If this was it, if he was to be argrd and shamed in unspeakable ways, he needed to see Loki do it.  
Not on his knees, not like a prisoner or a criminal who had to take the humiliation with their faces in the dirt.   
If Loki did this to him, he wanted to see him. 

Loki studied him for a moment longer. His eyes were shining, purple spots dancing high on his cheekbones. The white tattoos were, as always a stark contrast on his blue skin, and with the slight flush they stood out even more. Then his mouth pulled into a smile and he nodded. “As you wish.”

He shifted, reaching out for the vial that held the oil once more, pulling the cork out with his teeth before drizzling copious amounts onto his cock. He passed Thor the vial to close it again, all the while lathering his own cock, his hand running up and down his length, spreading the slick evenly. 

His fingers were still buried deep inside of Thor, and then he leaned down, pressing a kiss against his chest, nipping at his nipples. Thor's eyes were burning when Loki finally pulled them out, teasing the rim by sliding the rough pads of his fingers over it. Then his hand found Thor´s cock once more. It had softened ever so slightly, and Loki took his time to pump it to bring it back to full hardness. 

Thor felt empty, his hole struggling to close, and he could feel the coldness gather in his core, his breath stuttering in his chest. 

Loki lowered himself to lay between his legs, and Thor could feel his slick cock move against his own, rock-hard and ice cold. Loki pushed himself up and grabbed the root of his cock, sliding it past his balls over his perineum, pushing against his entrance. He slid the cold tip and down the slick skin a couple of times, catching at the rim before he stilled. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Thor´s mouth. “Relax” He whispered.

And then he pushed in.

Thor held his breath as he was breached, the thick head of Loki´s cock burrowing its way into him, much thicker than his three fingers had been. His breath stuttered out of him and he ripped his eyes open, trying to do as Loki told him to, to allow the penetration to go easier. 

Loki slid in a couple of centimetres, not far, but already Thor felt as if he was cored, too full, too soon.  
Also, it _stung._  
Very much so.  
 _It is supposed to hurt._ His brain added helpfully. _Otherwise it would not really be punishment, now would it?_

He suppressed the whine that wished to escape him. 

Loki had stopped, just the head of his cock inside of Thor's passage, rocking back and forth in small increments. He nipped and lapped at Thor's ear, voice husky. “Let me in, Thor. Come on. Let me in.” His fingers were exploring Thor´s body, stroking over skin that was already covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He tugged at Thor´s arms, his tongue sliding over his mouth once more. “Thor. Hold me.” Loki whispered.

Thor wheezed a breath, and without a second thought he raised his arms, slinging them around the cool body of his lover, holding him tight as if he was drowning.  
And maybe he was. 

Loki murmured his approval. His tongue was still swiping over sealed lips, and finally Thor opened them, allowing Loki to thrust his tongue into him. At the same time Loki canted his hips and slid deeper, making Thor gasp at the sting, the absolute and total claim over his body, his mind, his soul. 

And then Loki grazed that spot deep inside of Thor, a lightening bolt of pleasure mixing with the pain, and he sucked in another breath, fingers clenching into cold skin. “Oh... Norns.” He hissed, shivering in Loki's arms. 

“You are doing so well.” Loki purred. He rolled his hips, a minute movement, again grazing against the spot, making Thor sob out in protest.   
It was so different.   
Intense.  
 _Overwhelming._

Nothing like Thor had expected. 

He panted wetly when Loki pushed himself up on his arm, his other hand roaming between them, grasping his cock once more. Thor twitched at the sensation of slick hands upon him, and he clenched down onto the intrusion inside of him, making him feel even fuller. His whole body was singing, ass full and hurting, and yet while his erection had flagged his cock was once again hardening in Loki's clever fingers. Loki started caressing him while at the same time kissing him, hips rolling into the spot deep inside of him, again and again. 

And then all of the sudden Loki slid even deeper, all the way until his hips settled against Thor´s ass, making him feel like his whole body was heading towards a cramp. 

He gasped, grid his teeth, pushing his forehead against Loki´s shoulder. 

He was rewarded with a kiss on the top of his head. “There we are. You are doing so well. So well, Thor.”

The hand on his cock sped up and Loki started rolling his hips, rocking back and forth, slowly, but with intent. And while it did hurt, just like Thor had expected, it was a complex hurt, deep and drumming. Pleasure was layering over it in a complicated pattern woven from the hand on his cock and the place deep inside of him that seemed to drown him in molten lava when it was touched. 

And then, all of the sudden it was too much, too much pleasure that overtook the pain, too many sensations that were too involved for him to understand. He sobbed out, clawing into Loki´s back. “Stop. Too much. ”

Loki slowed his rocking and stilled, buried deep inside of him, his cock a cold brand burning him from the inside out. “You are doing so well.” He kissed him against the temple, a finger stroking through his hair. “Am I hurting you?”

Thor grit his teeth, and it took him a moment to answer. “No. Yes.” He gasped, shivered. “I don´t know.”

Another kiss was pressed against him, soft lips catching at his rough ones, rubbing against him. “You can take this, Thor.” Loki remained still while his hand picked up the slow rhythm on his cock once more, gliding up and down, up and down, always swiping over the tip to gather the precome to spread over the dry skin. “You are doing so well already.” His fingers continued to tease, to layer pleasure over pleasure, until Thor shifted, unable to hold back a low moan. As if it was a sign Loki started rocking his hips again, back and forth, slowly, gently, always grazing over that spot inside of him that made him feel... electric.

Thor tried to contain his noises, but they spilled from his lips, unable to hold them back

“There you go.” Loki licked at Thor´s neck, pushing his whole body against him. “You are doing so very well.” Thor groaned when Loki pulled back further, almost all the way out, rocking in and out of him in a smooth rhythm that did not seat him too deep.

He took his time, reapplied slick when his cock started to catch at dry skin, and Thor could feel himself growing accustomed to the thick length inside of him, stroking him, invading him.  
Owning him. 

Loki stayed in him for so long that it felt hard to know what it was like to be empty, as if he belonged inside of Thor, and nowhere else. It was as if Loki was coring him, taking everything Thor had and even more, making sure that Thor would never forget whom be belonged to. 

He could not hold back the low moans that Loki wrung from him, and when he realized that he lifted his hips every now and then to meet the steady thrusts, to chase that sensation of being owned he was past the point of caring. 

And then Loki started to make small noises of pleasure, little groans, rubbing his entire body along Thor´s heated flesh. His hand was still on Thor´s cock and it sped up as did his thrusts, fucking into Thor harder and harder, his hips pumping and his ass flexing every time he seated himself deep.   
Thor could not hold back the cries, Loki´s cock igniting fireworks inside of him, turning his spine into liquid metal, his feet burning with warmth. His toes curled and he pulled his knees closer so that Loki could go even deeper, possess him even greater, and then Loki bit him, hard into the shoulder, layering one more sensation over the myriad of others already overwhelming his senses.

It was too much, 

Pleasure and pain and pleasure and now more pain. 

His whole body was burning, and Thor squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from them when he felt heat cascade though his body, ripping everything along, turning his limbs to liquid and his guts into a bout of fire. 

With a shout Thor tumbled over the edge. 

He clenched down helplessly as he spurted hot cum onto their stomachs. Loki continued to fuck him through his orgasm, heightening the sensation by driving into the point of liquid electricity deep inside of him, again and again. 

And then Loki stilled, his fingers tightening around Thor´s back, and his cock impossibly seemed to thicken before his ejaculate, cold as ice, painted Thor´s insides.  
It was just another sensation layering on top of the rest. 

And then everything went still. 

Thor felt as if his whole body had turned to water and he sunk back into the furs, legs splaying open around where Loki was still buried deep inside of him. Loki was a heavy weight on top of him, but he did not mind it, still holding him close, never wanting to let him go. 

For a long while they panted against each others skin. Thor thought he could see steam rise from his own body, but it might have been an illusion. He could feel Loki´s cock softening inside of him, shifting against his raw opening. He moaned softly when Loki moved to pull out, pressing a kiss against Thor´s sweat-slick forehead as he left a trail of slick and cum trickling out between his legs. 

He pulled himself from Thor´s arms to curl up next to him, fingers pushing into Thor´s blond hair, his legs still entangled with him. 

Thor only turned his head, slowly, the rest of his body too weary to move. He stared at Loki through heavy-lidded eyes. “How was that?” He felt like he was slurring his words and he blinked slowly, realizing that sleep was darkening the corners of his vision. “Did you like it?”

Loki smiled at him lazily, a dark fire burning in his eyes. He pressed a cool kiss onto Thor's warm cheek. “Shut up, you stupid idiot.” And he settled his whole body against his, pulling him even closer. 

Thor let out a breath he had not known that he had been holding. He was floating on a cloud of weariness, but he realized that Loki was laying in his arms, looking content like a cat that had eaten a mouse. 

And then the whole month of sleep deprivation, fuelled by doubts and fears crashed over him, and he let out a deep breath as he slipped into a deep sleep, cradled in the arms of his lover.


	45. What happens in Jötunheimr stays in Jötunheimr...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMG. We are so close, I can almost taste it. Almost there... almost!  
> I always think we are at the second to last chapter and then something else pops up that makes more sense and this is a monster of a fic that is consuming me. 
> 
> But we will get there, hopefully rather sooner than later.  
> And thanks to each and every one of you who is still sticking with me after all this time, being patient with me and offering support in kudos and comments. You keep me going. 
> 
> For now, please enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> x

Memories what had happened the night before bloomed before his eyes.

Loki.   
Loki had taken him.  
Argrd him. 

And then he had fallen asleep.   
In Loki´s bed.

Thor lifted his head to look around, his hands reaching out in search of a cool body next to him. 

But there was no one there.  
He was alone.

His heart clenched, then his head thudded back into the furs.  
It was hard to suppress the disappointment that swirled in the pit of his stomach. 

Loki had left him. 

With a sigh Thor raised his hand, rubbing it over his closed eyes and forehead. 

He should have known.   
He should have known that...

“Good morning.” Thor raised his head at the familiar voice.. 

Loki was standing in the entrance to the bathing chamber, studying him with bright eyes. He was naked, leaning against the door with nonchalance, holding a piece of cloth in his hand that was lightly steaming in the cool air. 

Thor smiled. “Good morning.” Warmth spread through his chest.

Loki returned his smile as he walked towards him. He flicked a small ball of fire into the cold fireplace before he crawled back into bed, settling next to Thor. His red eyes were burning into him. “You did not think I would leave you, did you?”

Thor shook his head automatically. “No. Of course not.”

Loki grinned. “Liar.” He held out the steaming towel, his eyebrows raised. “I thought you might wish to clean yourself.”

Thor nodded. He had tried to ignore the dried, flaky cum that covered his stomach and thighs, but it was itching ever so slightly, crumbling from his nude skin. “Thank you.” He took the towel and curled to the side, wincing when he slid the damp cloth between his legs. 

Loki´s smile widened. “Sore?”

Thor hummed non-committally, but did not meet Loki´s eyes. 

Loki let out a small laugh. “I can get you some cream later.” He leaned in further, invading Thor's space, fingers running over his shoulders, along his arms. “I would not want the mighty king of Asgard to hobble to his next meeting, unable to sit because I ploughed his ass until he screamed on my cock.”

Thor stared at him, mouth curling downward in disgust. “I did _not_ scream.” He answered, bristling at the choice of words. 

Loki grinned. “You are right. You did not. Groaned a little though.”

Thor could feel himself flush, rubbing harder at his stomach, cleaning himself of the sticky residue that still clung to him. “So did you.” He mumbled.

Loki reached out, combed his fingers through blond hair. “Mmmm. That I did.” Another soft, low laugh. “You can´t fault me for that though. You do have a very nice ass.”

“Loki!” Thor hissed. “Stop it.”

Loki tugged at his hair playfully. “Alright. I am stopping.”

Thor growled under his breath as he gave himself another obligatory swipe over his chest and legs.  
There.  
This was as clean as he was going to get without taking an actual bath. 

He looked at the towel for a long moment, unsure what to do with it. His eyes flicked to the bathing chamber but they seemed so far away and he knew that moving would... be unpleasant.

Loki saw his hesitation, still smiling. “Just throw it on the floor. Not on the carpet, mind you.”

Thor did.   
It landed with a wet slap. 

He leaned back into the furs with a sigh.  
Loki was still playing with his hair, and Thor turned towards him so that they were both laying on their sides, facing each other.

Thor stared at blue skin, raised branded tattoos, deep red eyes. He swallowed before he asked, voice a low murmur. “May I touch you?”

Loki eyes lit up. “Yes.” He said simply. 

Thor to let out a breath, and raised his hand, hesitantly stroking over the cool cheeks. They laid for a while in silence while Thor´s calloused fingers roamed, hungry for touch, tracing over brands on Loki´s forehead, along the side of his nose, down to his chin. Loki just smiled, apparently enjoying the soft, tentative touch. 

Thor took a deep breath.   
He knew he had to leave soon, but there were still things he needed to discuss. His voice was soft as he spoke. “So what happens now?”

“What do you mean?” Loki raised a single eyebrow questioningly. 

Thor continued to touch him, relishing the stark difference of his pink skin against blue. “I mean with us.” His fingers stopped at Loki´s lower lip, rough callouses catching against soft skin. “Was this a one-time thing? Or...” He swallowed. “Or not?”

Loki twirled a golden strand in his fingers. “Would you want to make it something that happens more often?” His voice lowered into a purr and his eyes sparkled. “Did you enjoy yourself even?”

Thor´s hand stopped moving. “Of course I would like to see you more often. I missed you. I want to be able to see you. Touch you.” He swallowed. “As to whether I enjoyed myself... if it meant I....” He shrugged helplessly. “It was... okay.”

His mind offered another answer entirely.   
_Liar. You did enjoy yourself.  
It did hurt, but not as much as you thought it would.   
You liked it!  
You could even see it happening again._

Thor pushed the thoughts away, focusing on Loki instead.  
That was not something he wanted to think about right now.   
He would when he was back home.   
When he had time to consider what had happened.  
What it meant that he had not actually minded being argrd.

Then again... maybe he could just forget that ever happened. 

Loki pushed himself up onto his elbow, staring down at Thor. “It was _okay?_ ” He asked drily. 

Thor clenched his lips into a thin line. He did not wish to discuss his mental turmoil, how weary he had been, how confused he was now at the sensations his body had offered. That he had, against all his expectations, enjoyed himself.   
So he stayed stubbornly silent. 

Loki sighed. He pushed himself closer until he snuggled up against Thor, pressing his entire body against the warmth of his lover. He leaned in, nipped at his neck. “Well, if you are _okay_ with my advances on a regular basis, then so am I.” He leaned in for a quick kiss, staring into the dark blue eyes of Thor. “Whenever you are in Jötunheimr, my door is always open.”

Thor nodded slowly.  
The warmth that he had felt earlier continued to spread through his body, colouring his cheeks. 

Loki wished to see him again.

He let out a breath, his mouth curling into a smile. “Thank you. I am glad. I would be very happy to come and visit you on a regular basis.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Loki´s forehead. “I could come by every two or three months, stay for up to a week or so. If that was... amicable.”

Loki shifted in his arms, his hair tickling Thor´s cheek. He was so close Thor could see the purple veins running through the red of his eyes. “Yes. I believe that would be amicable.”

“Good. That is good.” Thor´s heart thudded in his chest. He carefully pulled Loki closer, burrowing his nose into his hair, taking a deep breath. Loki smelled so good, of ice and snow, of cinnamon and musk. “What about the others?” He rumbled into the thick hair. 

“What others?”

Thor swallowed.   
This could be a subject that Loki might not wish to discuss. But he needed to, and now was as good a time as any. Or so he hoped. He cleared his throat before he continued. “Word is that you regularly take lovers into your bed.” He smoothed his hands over Loki´s back, following raised lines. “It is said that you prefer not to sleep alone at night.”

Loki did not move, did not pull away. “No.” He said simply. “I do not.”

Thor nodded.   
That was fair enough. 

He continued carefully, his voice quiet. ”I do not wish to be one of many.”

Loki pulled away, enough so that he could look into Thor´s face. “So you expect me to stay chaste until you deem it the right time to visit me?” His voice was sharp. 

Thor shrugged. “I would do the same.”

Loki stared at him for a long moment, eyes sparkling. “Well, I would very much hope so.” Thor´s warm hands continued to caress him, slowly, up and down his back in soft, even motions. Finally, much to Thor´s relief, he nodded. “All right. It is something I can consider.”

Thor let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes, his arms still slung around Loki, holding him as close as he dared. “So...” He could not help but grin. “Do you boss around all of your lovers the way you did me?”

He could feel Loki stilling in his arms, wondering if he would find himself thrown out into the hallway any moment know. But he was glad when, after just a few seconds Loki cracked a smile in return, his eyes sparkling “I did not _boss_ you around. Nor any of the others. All I did was simply put down some rules.” He snuggled even closer, breathing cold air against warm skin, watching it rise in goosed flesh. “You see, I have learned something valuable during my time here – in a world of Alphas that believe that they can take whatever they wish for without asking, it is important to make rules. For me and them both.”

Thor nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. But what if they don´t do as you ask them? Jötnar are not really known for doing as they are told, after all.”

Loki nosed under Thor´s chin. “Believe it or not, some Jötnar and Asgardians share that trait.” Thor could feel Loki´s mouth spread into a smile at his clavicle. “But that you are right of course. There were some that tried to go against my wishes. Not to follow the simple rules I made for them.” Loki shrugged. “It was an issue I faced in the beginning, but no more. For the ones that had trouble understanding I underlined my needs with a little bit of fire. That was enough for even the most stubborn of Alpha see my point of view.” He kissed Thor lightly. “I did not force anyone to share my bed. But when they do they have to follow my rules.” He looked up, eyes sparkling mischievously. “It is really not that hard to understand. Even _you_ can do it.”

Thor hummed against cool skin. “Thanks for that.” He had closed his eyes, mind divided on focusing on the words as well as the feeling of the curve of the lithe body pressed against his own, noting the dips and curves of sharp bones against soft skin. He let his fingers wander, slowly, lazily kissing along ice-cold flesh. 

It felt good to hold Loki.   
To hold him and touch him.   
Good enough for his cock to thicken between his thighs.

Thor tried to ignore his rebellious flesh, instead focused on his former consort in his arms, his weight resting heavily where his own arm was slid under his body, of the steady rise and fall of his chest against Thor´s. “That makes sense.” He mumbled belatedly.

Loki shifted, and Thor´s cock twitched when cold flesh rubbed against him, hardening it even further. Loki stilled once more, then he laughed, a low, mocking sound. “Really, Thor? Do you actually believe that your ass can handle another round?”

Ah. Yes.

Thor froze, and said ass sent another wave of dull ache up his spine, a reminder that no, actually, he was not ready for that again.

But now that Loki had brought it up...   
He looked at Loki, cupping his chin gently. “I had been hoping that maybe... I could...”

Lokis features smoothed, void of emotion. “You hoped for what, Thor?” 

Thor cleared his throat, unsure how to continue. He could feel the danger sparkling in Loki's eyes. “ I mean...”

Loki smiled, voice sugary sweet. “Awww, Thor. Had you hoped that you would get to fuck me this morning? Once me, once you?” He slowly shook his head. “That is not going to happen.”

Thor licked his lips. “I wish to pleasure you as well.” He stared at Loki. “You used to enjoy that.”

As had he.

Loki sighed, shaking his head as if Thor was an especially slow student of his. “Oh Thor. There are several reasons that this not going to happen.” He cocked his head. “First of all – I don´t want to.” He allowed the words to sink in for a moment. “I have found a taste in being the one in control, in fucking others that are larger and believe themselves to be stronger than me.”

Thor could feel frustration build inside of him, his cock still pressed against cool skin, so tantalizing close. “I have needs as well.”

Loki´s mouth pulled downwards. “Of course you do. But there are other ways to meet them. You don´t need to stick your cock in my cunt to do that.” Slowly, deliberately he pulled away. “However if that is the only thing you wish to happen in this relationship...”

“No...I am not saying that.” Thor grit his teeth, huffing out his frustration.   
He had forgotten how _difficult_ Loki could be.

Loki stared at him in return. The distance between their bodies now was painfully noticeable, especially after they had been close for so long.   
Thor could feel his erection wilting, and he fisted his hands at his sides.  
Loki watched him and finally his face softened. “Thor. There is another reason for all this.” He reached out to gently push an errand strand behind his ear, his eyes never leaving Thor´s face. “I do not wish to become pregnant.” He said simply.

Thor just stared at him.   
That... that was not something he had considered.  
Though now that the thought about it he realized that it was something he had been hoping for, and the words struck something deep in his heart. “Why not?”

Loki did not answer immediately. Instead he continued to play with the strand of hair, tugging at it, twirling it between his fingers. When he did finally answer his voice was low. “This is neither the time nor the place for me to be with child.” 

Thor waited for Loki to continue, but after about a minute he realized that that had been it. He would not receive a long-winded explanation.  
Just that. 

He sucked in a breath. 

Loki not wanting to be with child... that was regrettable.   
He realized how strong his wish was to sire more offspring, to watch Loki grow round and soft with his seed. 

A babe. 

It would bind them closer together.   
Maybe even close enough for Loki to follow him back to Asgard. 

But then Fenris was a good example of what would happen if Loki was pushed to have offspring against his will. 

Slowly Thor nodded. “I see.”

They laid for another long moment in silence, the distance between their bodies less than a hand-span, but, in Thor´s mind, it could have been realms, it would not have made a difference.

The spell that had allowed them to share each others space was broken. 

Loki must have realized the same for he pushed himself into sitting position, smiling tiredly. “You might want to get up soon. Dellingr will be surprised if you sleep half the day away.” He slid off the bed. “Would not want him hammering at your door and wondering where you are.”

Thor nodded. He sat up, immediately wincing at the pain in his backside.“You mentioned something about a cream?”

Loki smirked. “Let me get it for you.”

Thor took his time to wash and get dressed, moving carefully.   
The cream that Loki had brought did take away the worst of the sting, but it was still noticeable. He straightened his clothes, turning towards Loki one more before stepping out into the hallway.

“I have one last request.” He said. 

“You do? My, you are full of surprises today.” Loki raised his eyebrows at him. 

Thor shook his head. “I would ask you not to speak of this. Of our...relations.”

Loki huffed out a breath. “People are going to notice you sneaking in and out of my room. Visiting Jötunheimr more often. They are not stupid.” 

Thor nodded. “I realize that of course. But that is not what I meant.” He swallowed. “I require you not to speak about... what you have done.” He took a quick look around, worried that someone might hear them talking. 

Amusement crinkled the side of Loki´s eyes. “You mean that I fuck you instead of the other way around? That the mighty Thor gets on his knees in front of his former slave to take his cock up his ass?”

Thor frowned. “Crudeness does not suit you, Loki.”

Loki grinned. “Ah, but it does. Especially when I can make you cringe.”

Thor´s lips thinned. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Will you promise?”

The slight Frost Giant shrugged. “And what will you give me in return?

Thor stared at him. “I don´t know. What do you require to ensure your silence?”

“I shall think of something.” He sighed. “But for now, let the realms believe that I submit to you once more.”

“Not just for now. You can never speak of this. Of our arrangement. You need to promise.”

Loki´s eyes glittered. “Fine. I promise.”

“Good.” With that Thor stood in the walkway for a long, awkward moment before he offered a nod. “I bid you goodbye then, Loki.”

Loki sighed, rolled his eyes. “Come here, you idiot.” He grabbed him by the front of his armour and pulled him closer, pressing his mouth against him, cool tongue working against warm lips. He kissed him passionately for a long moment until Thor could feel himself twitch in his pants once more. 

When Thor walked away he tried his best to keep his back straight, ignoring the faint hurt that his ass radiated. And judging by Loki´s laughter that followed him down the hallway, he did not necessarily do the best job to hide it. 

 

x

When Thor was gone Loki slowly closed the door.  
He leaned against it, unable to keep a mild flood of fear from washing over him.   
He closed his eyes.

The bond, which he had felt blooming while Thor had been with him, was now throbbing in his chest. It radiated through his entire body, carving new energy lines inside of him, connecting his head with his heat and his crotch. 

It made him feel alive, connected, as if he was part of a bigger something. 

It also scared him more than he dared to admit. 

This night – it had given him so much more that he had imagined.   
He wished to be with his mate.   
And the urge to follow Thor, to allow him to take him to Asgard just to be close to him, to feel as loved and completed all day, every day - it was overwhelming. 

Loki grit his teeth.

No.  
That was not going to happen.   
Not in all the worlds. 

He would not allow his body to force him to accept his nature against his will. 

Loki took another deep breath, rubbing his hand against his forehead. 

He had discussed these worries with Ulf in the past.   
And they had then figured out a plan on what to do if, against all odds, his bond threatened to overwhelm him.  
Force him to do something stupid he would later regret. 

As he was to do now. 

So, Loki, without another moment of delay, went through his rooms and packed a small bag. When he felt that he had everything he needed he left the castle, taking a deep breath of the snow-heavy air.  
Then he turned himself into a wolf.   
And then he ran. 

For the whole of three days and two nights he ran, relentlessly.

He ran through the empty plains, orienting himself only by the villages he passed, more than once having come off his path.   
Then he finally reached where the Icen mountains meet the sea. 

There was a healer that he had heard about.   
An elder who, while he did not have the gift of magic, knew much about remedies against a wide array of ailments of his people. 

Loki stopped in midst of the village, shed the skin of the wolf.  
He was tired.   
Exhausted, really.   
But he had no time to loose.  
He could feel the bond throbbing in his chest, heating his crotch.

Asking his way he was directed to a small house tugged close to the mountain, away from all the others. 

He knocked.

An elder Jötun, with a crooked spine and stunted growth opened. 

Loki bowed his head in greeting. Then he took a deep breath. “I am Loki of...”

The elder stared at him. “I know who you are.”

Loki nodded. He waited for the healer to step to the side, then followed him into the cramped space. He sat down at a small table, waited until he was indicated to speak. 

“I wish to silence my bond.” His voice felt scratchy. His chest hurt.  
He knew it was necessary.  
He could not be bound to that oaf, the enslaver of his people.   
He needed to be free. 

The elder stared at him for a moment, then shook his head.   
His red eyes were burning into Loki´s. “No.” It was all he said. 

Loki swallowed around the clump in his throat.   
He took another deep breath and another.  
He had known that this might happen.  
He raised his chin. “In that case I wish to suppress my heats. I can not go with child. Not now.”   
That one, at least, he hoped to be possible.   
Otherwise he did not know what do do.

To his relief the elder nodded. He studied Loki for a moment before he stood and went to one of his many shelves. He rummaged through a dizzying array of pouches and containers, until he finally pulled out a small box. He came back and placed it in front of Loki.

Loki studied it for a moment. It was about the size of his palm, crudely fashioned from sheets of ice with little workmanship or care.   
Carefully he opened it.   
Inside were about fifteen or twenty small pellets, black, their smell sharp and unpleasant.

The elder´s voice was low and rumbling. “Take one of those, crush it to a fine powder. Take a ball of ice the size of your fist. Melt it, stir in the powder, boil it down to a paste over two days. Then add two fingers of water. Take one three drops every morning. It will make your womb barren”

Loki shifted, his fingers clenching around the ice. “Barren? Forever?”

The healer stared at him, expressionless. “No.”

Loki let out a soft breath. “And it works without fail?”

“No.”

“Right.” Loki nodded. He went through the pouch he had been carrying in wolf form, and placed food, some ale and a couple of coins onto the table. “Will this be enough?”

Again, the elder Jötun did not move a muscle, just continued to stare at Loki. “Yes.”

Loki nodded, rose. “I thank thee.” 

He left without another word. 

While he strapped the pouch to his form, securing it before turning to a wolf once more, he had only one thought: He really hoped that it worked. And he also really hoped that the elder had not decided to poison him. 

But all he could do was wait and see. 

 

x

 

Life went on. 

As it always did.

The medicine, much to Loki´s relief, suppressed his heats.   
It did not however soften his needs for his bonded mate as much as he had wished for. 

Thor visited every couple of months, sometimes more often, sometimes less. 

Loki welcomed him in his rooms with open arms.

People noticed.  
Of course they did. 

Loki turned down his lovers and ignored Ulf´s lascivious comments and grins.   
He took his drops, day in and day out, praying to the Norns in silence that they would help him stay without child. 

Some of the Jötnar glowered at Loki as the news spread that he allowed the Thunderer into his bed once again.   
For this time he was not being forced, did not wear a collar.  
And no one knew about the bond.   
Some hated him once more.

But Loki did not explain himself.

The Asgardians, on the other hand, grinned at him, their eyes roaming his body with more intent that they even had in the past. Some whispered to him that if he loved Asgardian cock so much that they were willing to help out, when he was alone in the long months between Thor´s visits. 

Loki ignored some, sneered at others, and once more held his head high.   
He was bedding a king.  
And what he did, with his own body, was his choice, and his choice only.

It was time for everyone, including Thor, to learn that lesson. 

 

x

 

It took much longer for the news of Thor bedding his former consort to travel to Asgard. 

But Frigga noticed.   
Of course she did. 

Thor had lunch with her once a week if he could take the time, for he valued her advice highly. And he found himself discuss things with her that he would have usually brought to Odin, knowing that her gentle wisdom helped him see many things from a different perspective. 

However when he stepped into the room one day, seeing her sitting on one of her chairs, her smile broad and her eyes sparkling brightly, he knew what she would talk to him about something different entirely. 

“Thor.” She rose as he walked towards her, pressed a small kiss against his cheek. She waited as he sat down, picked up a pitcher of water and poured a glass for each of them. Then she leaned back, her dark blue eyes studying him intently. “I heard that you visit Jötunheimr a lot these days. And that you stay longer.” She leaned in. “Is business just a lot more pressing lately? Or are there other reasons for your visits?” Her smile broadened even further. “Maybe blue-skinned, sharp-tongued reasons?”

Thor shifted, took a sip of his water. “People talk too much.”

She nodded. “Yes. That they do.” She raised a pitcher of light mead and when he nodded poured him a second glass. She passed it to him, waiting until he had finished taking a sip. When she spoke her voice was quiet. “Are you happy?”

He shrugged, staring down into the golden liquid. “I guess.”

Frigga leaned in, placing her hand onto his arm. “I am so very glad for you, Thor.” She squeezed it lightly. “Just make sure that you take it slow.”

Thor shrugged “It is nothing serious.”

Frigga passed him a basket of bread and a plate of cold meats. “Loki would not simply allow you back into his bed if he did not have a reason for it. “ They stared at each other. “That lover of yours is too smart for that. So either he really loves you, or...” She sighed. “Just make sure that it is the best for you both.” She picked up a roll, breaking it into two. “You have my blessing either way.”

Thor nodded. “I thank thee, mother.”

He was glad when Frigga allowed him to change the subject.

 

x

 

The years passed. 

Loki enjoyed the meetings with Thor more than he was willing to admit to himself.   
They had gotten past the point when Thor was not allowed to touch, both freely using each others body to take pleasure as they required. 

And every now and then, though scarcely, did Loki allow Thor to mount him.   
He was still too worried about being forced into a heat he did not wish for.   
Also neither of that had forgotten what Thor had once done to him, so they were careful with each other, knowing that their relationship was fragile enough as it was. 

But they managed not to shatter it.

However it was also not without obstacles.   
That would have been too easy. 

One time, already more than a decade after they had started once more to share each others bed, they had another night in which they gave in to passion freely. That particular evening Loki had allowed Thor to take him, just to later mount him himself, enjoying how willingly Thor now was taking his cock, giving in to the pleasure from what he used to see as an unnatural, demeaning act. 

It had been a good evening, maybe even better than most. 

However Thor ruined it.   
How could he not?

They were laying in each others arms, cum and sweat drying on their skin when Thor pulled Loki closer, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. His voice was slightly raspy. “You know something Loki?”

“Hmmmm.....” Loki rumbled. “I know that you are trying to squash me.”

Thor laughed quietly, relaxing his arms without letting go. “No. I am not.” He raised one arm and combed fingers through Loki´s hair, pressing another soft kiss against the top of his head. “And don´t try to change the subject.”

Loki sighed. “Fine. What am I supposed to know?”

Thor grinned at him. “I just wanted to say how happy I am. With you. With us.”

Loki blinked as the words slowly sunk in.   
Thor had not spoken so freely about his feelings to him in _years_. 

Well. 

Thor was still smiling. “What about you?” It was obvious that he expected an answer, that he wished for Loki to confirm that yes, of course he was happy as well. 

But it was not that easy.  
It never was. 

Loki sighed loudly. He tried to roll off of Thor, but strong arms continued to hold him close. He hissed, twisting a nipple sharply. “You ask the most annoying questions, did you know that?”

“So I have been told.” Thor answered drily. He loosened his embrace, rubbing at his chest. 

They laid for a couple of moments in silence. Loki knew that Thor was waiting for the answer by the way that he was staring at him, expectantly. He traced patterns into Thor´s skin, arrows and circles that could have been brands, if he had been a Frost Giant. “You are not going to like what I have to say to that.”

He felt Thor still under his touch, looked up into eyes that had darkened with worry. “Tell me.”

Loki sighed deeply. “You are such an idiot.” He took a deep breath. “Seriously, Thor. We fuck every couple of months. That´s it. And, believe it or not, that does not make up for everything that is wrong in my life.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “Your cock is not that great.”

Thor sat up. “What? What do you mean, everything that is wrong? What is wrong?” He actually looked concerned. 

Loki stared at him. “What is wrong?” He could feel his heartbeat picking up and he sat up as well, facing Thor. “Everything is wrong.” He rolled his eyes at Thor´s empty face. “You still don't get it, do you? Even after all this time.” His bond throbbed in his chest. “I don't like being a slave.” He raised his hand when Thor opened his mouth to object. “No. Let me finish. Every Jötun is bound to you, to Asgard. We all carry an invincible yoke on our necks, and no matter how much you think that you have the right as victors, after a war being lost... I am not happy, Thor. And I won´t be until this realm is freed. And has the Casket of Ancient Winters returned to it.”

Thor had paled, his lips were pressed into a thin line. “Laufey has...”

Loki interrupted him sharply. “I know what my father did, thank you very much. I know of all the wrong that the Jötnar have done. Believe me, I can recite Dellingr´s continuous lamenting on the subject by heart by now.” He took a deep breath. “And many of my people have fought in the war against you. So I know that you feel that you can not be lenient.” He shrugged. “But that does not change the matter.”

Thor looked drained and tired. All their post-coital bliss had evaporated. “I don´t know what to say, Loki.”

Loki nodded. That was not a surprise. He slowly peeled himself out of the sheets. “I know.” He stood, staring down at Thor who was still stretched out between the furs. His heart was clenching in his chest. “I think it is best if you leave now.”

Thor´s face fell. “I am sorry if I upset you.”

Loki nodded. “So am I.”

It was an old story.   
They had had this discussion before.   
Loki usually snarled about Asgard enslaving his people and Thor reminding him, again and again, that the Jötnar had lost a war.

It was nothing new. 

Loki did not kiss him farewell when he left that night.

x

It was just two months later.

Loki was walking down a long, dark hallway, a small green fire flickering in the palm of his hand. His face was grim.   
Two Alphas were walking next to him, both bend over so that they could speak to each other, their voices muted. “It is too soon.” Loki hissed. 

The larger of the Jötnar leaned in, snarling under his breath. “No! We need to do it now! We can wait no longer”

Loki´s hand fisted at his side and he noticed an alcove, stepping inside and turning towards the two Giants towering above him. Loki´s voice was low, urgent. “It is not the time yet. We don´t have enough people, not nearly enough weapons. We need to wait.”

“You keep saying that!” The large Alpha growled. 

Loki could feel the suppressed anger waver off him. He raised his chin, his red eyes blazing. “Yes. I do keeping saying that. Because it makes sense. Something which _you_ would not understand. You need to learn to be patient. ”

The Alpha leaned down, his hand painfully wrapping around Loki´s arm, pulling him closer. He was snarling under his breath. “We have been patient long enough! The people are getting restless. They spoil for a fight.” His eyes were narrowed, glittering with anger. “You better not be stalling because you enjoy the cock of our mighty king enough to forget who you are.”

Loki grit his teeth at the assault, at the stench of the Giants breath that cooled his skin. He bared his teeth. “You better let go if you do not wish to add to that wonderful collection of burns you already have.” The Jötun squeezed harder before he released him with another snarl. 

Loki forced himself not to reach down and rub the aching skin, realizing that there would be a ring of bruises on his arm. His voice however was calm when he answered. “And no. I did not forget who I am. And neither should you.” He raised his head, glowering at the Giant towering above him. “I am the Laufeyson. The only one with a bit of brain in this damned affair.” He raised his chin. “The time will come. I will tell you when we attack.”

“Bah. The same promises, again and again.” The Alpha spat on the floor. “We will wait no more.”

The other Jötun who had been silent so far stepped closer. His voice was low enough to be a whisper. “Loki. We know who you are. What you are trying to do. But we are running out of time.”

Loki pressed his lips into a thin line.

No.   
It was too soon.  
He was almost there, he could feel it. 

He grit his teeth. “I need two, three more years. Then we can...”

The calm Alpha interrupted him. “You have said that before. It will not make a difference.” He looked at the other, both of them nodding in agreement. Then he looked back down at Loki. “You have tried it your way. Now it is time to try ours.”

Loki looked at both of the Jötnar towering above him.

He understood, no matter how much he would fight it, the revolution was taking a life of its own.   
And it seemed that it was now out of his hands.  
He had hoped so much to be able to solve this in another way.   
He had started planting doubt in Thor´s head but now... it had not been enough. 

They would go ahead with the plan, with or without him.

“All right.” He nodded, his heart clenching in his chest. “Tell the others.” Loki straightened, his face illuminated with the green flickering of the flame he was holding. “One month. And then we fight for our freedom.”

x

 

It was the middle of the night when Thor was ripped from his slumber with a violent start, woken from a persistent, loud knock on his door. 

He opened it, narrowing his eyes at the messenger. His eyes flicked up and down her narrow frame, the heavy pelts she wore, the red spots dancing on her cheek.

“Yes?”

“My Lord! There is a revolution in Jötunheimr!” She held out a letter holding Dellingr´s seal. “We need you to come.” 

Thor felt his entire body go cold.   
Then he nodded and turned to get dressed.


	46. The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god, I am currently having so much fun writing this.  
> It is wonderful that I have my mojo back, to wake up just to pull up my computer and start typing, excited by what I put down. So. Much. Fun!  
> That being said, it also turned out the chapter I wrote got longer and longer and when I got to 17.000 words I decided to split it into three... Ooops.  
> However that also means that the next chapter is done and done and will be out in one week.  
> Yay to me. 
> 
> For now, enjoy. Thanks again for everyone who is still sticking with me through this never-ending story! You all rock! I feed of your comments and kudos, and I send positive energy your way in form of squeeing and love. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Loki was sitting alone in a cell. 

He was leaning back against the cool wall behind him, breathing deeply.   
His eyes were closed.   
His mind was screaming at him. 

They had lost the uprising.   
In just a few days they had been mercilessly defeated. 

That was not how it was supposed to happen.   
Not in any way type or form.

At least he had done the best he could.   
Hadn´t he?

Loki shifted, gritting his teeth when pain flashed through him. His entire body hurt, some parts more than others. Above all, the Asgardians had once more bound his seiðr, which was now twisting inside of him, caged, snarling like a frenzied animal. 

He _hurt._  
His body, mind and soul were aching.  
And it made him so very tired.

Loki raised his hand and rubbed it over his face, sliding over grime.  
The Revolution... it had not gone as it was planned.   
Not at all.   
Loki had spend months and years to prepare a strategy on how they would fight against the Asgardians and possibly win, even with their low number of people and fewer weapons. They had needed the element of surprise, everyone to work together and to stick to his plan of action, step by step. On top of that they needed a whole lot of luck.   
But right at the beginning some of the Alphas had been too eager, ignoring his orders and trying to fight on their own.... And all Loki could do was helplessly witness how they lost their fight before it even began, their scheme falling apart under his fingertips.   
In the end they fought against a mounting tidal wave of Asgardians with no chance of victory, just trying to stand their ground.  
They had fucked up.  
Majorly. 

But there was nothing he could do about it now. 

Loki felt patches of sticky wetness that clung to his finger and he pulled his hand away.   
The cell was dark so he could not see, but he was sure that he had been sprayed with blood and it now clung to his features.   
Images flashes through his mind, pictures of needless destruction and pointless injuries. 

Loki lowered his hand.

What a mess. 

And it was partially, if not mostly, his fault.  
He should have briefed his team better.   
He should have given the leadership to another Alpha, someone his people would have listened to and followed.   
He should have...

Loki laughed softly, a sound of despair, distorted and hollow. 

All he had wanted was to bring peace to this realm.   
To make things better for his people.   
For himself. 

He had wanted it all. 

And now he managed to ruin everything.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, despair making them burn. 

Thor would be furious.   
And he had all the right in the worlds to be. 

If he was in Thor´s place... well.   
His punishment would be ruthless. 

Loki pushed his face into his hand, biting his tongue. 

When did it all go wrong?

 

X

 

Thor´s face was a grim mask as he rode into Jötunheimr, driving his steed hard enough for it to foam from its mouth. He hardly allowed himself to think over the anger that was bubbling in his stomach, over the lightening bolts of fury that zapped through his mind. 

The same question bombarded him, over and over again. 

Had Loki betrayed him?  
After everything they had shared?  
After everything they had been through? 

While the doubt gnawed at him, a soft, mocking voice seemed to whisper into his ear: _Of course he betrayed you. Did you think he wouldn´t? Did you actually think he loved you? You gullible fool..._

Thor snarled against the wind and drove his steed even harder. When they cantered up to the main doors of Útgarðar he hardly waited for it to stop, sliding off the saddle while still in motion, catching himself with a heavy thud on the floor. 

He could hear the cracking of thunder even over the howling of the storm that never ended, and he knew that his face was darkened with the anger.

A young soldier immediately came up to him. “Dellingr awaits you, my Lord.”

“In the throne room?”

She shook her head as she walked beside him up the stairs. “No, my Lord. In the library. The throne room was damaged during the rebellion.”

Thor nodded. He knew the way, and he walked fast, the length of his steps long and quick enough that the young woman had to almost jog to keep up with him. 

They arrived at the library and Thor ripped the door open, finding Dellingr and three of his generals bowed over the table, their eyes snapping up when he entered the room. They immediately straightened and saluted him.   
Thor nodded and walked up to the table, staring down at the maps. 

His mind flashed back to another time he had been in this library, stood at this desk...  
 _Loki´s table. This is Loki´s table._  
He pushed the thought away furiously. 

Dellingr nodded, his face grim. “My Lord.”

Thor nodded back. This was not the time pleasantries. “Give me the update.”

“Yes, my Lord. The attack started five days ago. It was not expected. In the beginning they managed to overwhelm us.”

Thor stared at him. “Five days! Why was I not informed earlier?”

The anger was clearly visible on Dellingrs face. “The Mage freed all the horses and then lit a fire in the stables. It took us almost one and a half days alone to get at least some of the horses back: Then he continued to intercept the messengers.”

Thor bit out a curse. “How many attacked us?”

“We believe around one hundred and twenty in the capital. We are not sure how much are still fighting in the outskirts and villages. We are still waiting for news.” Dellingr shook his head. “We have lost three of our men. At least twenty are seriously injured.”

Thor stared at him. One hundred and twenty? That was at least two thirds of Útgarðar Jötun population. His mouth, all of the sudden, was dry. “How many Jötnar dead?” 

“Seven.” 

Thor could hear the blood roaring in his ears. “The Mage?”   
He could not say his name.   
Would not.

Dellingr shook his head. “He is contained in the dungeons with some of the others.”

Thor nodded. Relief flooded through him but he would not let it show. “Fine. What do we know about the damages?” 

Dellingr turned his head towards a woman, her silver-blond hair cropped short. She stepped forward, bowing her head. Black and red blood was caking half of her armour. “My Lord. Most damage to the buildings, as far as we can see, is superficial. There was a fire in the throne room, the Asgardian sleeping quarters were partially destroyed, but that is the worst of it. They did not manage to get into the weapon chambers. However they did burn down the stables.” She cleared her throat. “The food storage were broken into and partially plundered.”

Thor took a deep breath. “What else?”

The soldiers looked at each other. Dellingr straightened himself. “We have imprisoned most of the culprits, but there is still a dangerous undercurrent of discontent and anger in the entire realm. We require reinforcements.”

Thor had expected as much. “How many do you need? 

“To be save I would suggest another three hundred soldiers, my Lord. At least until we have everything under control once more.”

Thor nodded. “Let´s go through the list of all the things you require. Then we send out the messenger to Asgard.”

Dellingr nodded. “As you wish, my Lord.”

 

x

 

The list turned out to be rather extensive. 

Thor went through it with Dellingr, ordering three hundred extra soldiers, five more doctors, food, ale, weapons. Thor signed the list and Dellingr send out a messenger immediately.

Then they stood. 

“I wish to see the prisoners.”

Dellingr nodded. “Of course my Lord.”

They made their way towards the dungeons, side by side, walking sharply.

Thor blanked his features, unsure how to breach the topic. “Is anything known who lead the revolution?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Dellingr took a sharp turn, stopped for a moment to take a burning torch of one of the rings before the continued down towards the dungeons. “Depending on whom we talk to here seem to be between three and five. They have all been caught and are kept in separate cells.” He looked over briefly, knowing what Thor wanted to ask. “The Laufeyson is one of them.”

They slowed as they took steps leading down towards the cells, the ice slippery with moisture.  
Thors insides were flaming with righteous anger that he tried to suppress. “So only five in the cells?”

Dellingr shook his head. “No. There are about forty of the rebels in the dungeons at the moment. They are the ones we believe to be most dangerous. The ones that have killed or injured one of our own, or we believe to be most unpredictable.” Dellingr made a low sound of frustration. “We don´t have enough men left to watch over them all on the outside. So until the reinforcement arrives that´s where they will stay.”

They took a last turn and then had arrived at the thick doors that led to the dungeons. Dellingr raised his hand and knocked, the sound echoing through the narrow hallway behind them.

They heard rattling on the inside. “What about the rest?” Thor´s voice was flat, controlled. 

Dellingr turned towards him. “They were put to work. We chained as many as we could and have started the flogging. Twenty lashes each to start with. It will take a while to go through them all.” They stood back as the door swung open. Two soldiers stared at them, hands on the hilts of their swords. They relaxed marginally when they saw who it was, stepped to the side. “My Lord.”

Thor nodded at them. 

He walked into the dungeon, took a quick look around. The first room was large, lined on both sides with rows of cells that held a large number of Frost Giants. They were sitting and standing, most of them turned towards them, their red eyes glowering in the flickering of the torchlight. 

Thor let his eyes wander, taking in the Jötnar. Many were injured, more or less severely, smudged with soot or dirt.

He did not recognize any of them. 

He turned towards Dellingr. “I wish to see the Laufeyson.”

One of the Jötnar was leaning at the bars of the prison, a sly grin spreading his features. “Conjugal visit already? If I had known that it was allowed I would have asked for one myself much earlier.”

Thor twisted around, snarling. “That one!” He pointed at the Jötun who had spoken. “Twenty-five lashes. Right now.” His eyes were narrowed, his fingers curled tightly around Mjølner. “Anyone else have anything _smart_ to say? I am waiting.”

He could feel the anger rolling off the Frost Giants, the way their eyes had narrowed and their lips pulled back over their teeth. Some had lowered their heads, an old, instinctive gesture from times past when they still had access to their horns. 

One of the Giants stood, slowly, leaning heavily on a stick.   
Thor frowned.   
It was the old Frost Giant, the one that Loki had befriended a long time ago. The old one was staring at him, fingers curling around the bars. “My Lord. I can see that you are angry.” He leaned closer, face solemn. “Don´t you take your anger out on your mate now. He just did what he felt necessary.”

Thor blinked. It took him a moment to understand what the old Frost Giant was talking about. Loki. He was speaking of Loki. He raised his chin. “I am sure he can speak for himself.” He turned towards Dellingr. “I have no patience for this. Take me to see him. Now.”

Dellingr nodded. He reached out to take a key off the wall, and without another word started down into the dark corridor at the other end of the room. Thor followed him. He quickly realized that the dungeons of Útgarðar were enormous, maybe even bigger than in Asgard. They walked through another long row of cells, only few of them occupied, into another room. Here the cells were empty, and Dellingr was still walking.

Thor could feel agitation burrow into his stomach like a small animal gnawing at his insides. “Why is he kept so far away?”

Dellingr made a low noise. “First of all, his silver tongue plants rebellion into the hearts of the Jötnar and doubts into the minds of my soldiers. And I can not have that.” They took another turn and stood in a hallway lined with cells that had heavy doors in front of them, all covered with strange symbols. “Also we found that these cells back here have special properties. They are very old and suppress a Mages seiðr.” He looked at Thor briefly. “They must have been build before the time of Odin´s war.”

Thor swallowed. His mouth was dry. He had not known that there were these kind of cells, but it did make sense – in a civilization that was build of Warriors and Mages alike, one had to be able to imprison both. 

He followed Dellingr further until the man stopped, just two doors down and slotted the key into the lock. He took a quick look at Thor, then turned the key and pulled the door open without another word.

Thor took a deep breath and then stepped into the cell. 

It was a small room, would have been claustrophobic for a full grown Frost Giant, but for Loki the size seemed to fit. He sat in the darkness in a corner on the floor, his legs propped up in front of him, leaning back against the wall. His eyes had been closed, but opened when Thor stepped into the room. He was bound by a thick metal cuff around his ankle, a short chain embedded into the wall beside him. Dellingr pushed the torch he had been holding into the ring where it settled, and Loki blinked at it, eyes narrowed. 

Thor had a quick look around, then turned back to Dellingr. “You kept him in the darkness?” 

Dellingr just stared at him. “We did not wish to take chances by leaving him with access to fire.”

Thor shook his head, waved him away. “Leave us be.”

He could see Dellingr wishing to protest, but when he saw the thunderous expression on Thors face he simply nodded, turned around. He closed the cell door behind himself but did not lock it. 

Slowly Thor turned back towards his prisoner, staring down at him. “Loki.” He ground out. He could not suppress the anger and indignation that flamed up inside of him once again, when the reality of what had happened crashed over him. 

Loki had betrayed him.   
Thor had given him so much.  
He taken him to his bed, allowed him to argr him.  
He given him his heart and his soul and Loki had turned around and crushed it under the sole of his foot.

“Thor.” A small, tired smile raised the sides of the slight Jötun´s mouth. It did not reach his eyes. “Surprise.” 

Thor growled. His fingers clenched at his sides, curling tightly into each other, his nails digging into the soft skin of his palms. “You betrayed me.” He ground out.

Something flitted over Loki's features, but they were smooth a second later. “I guess.”  
He sounded tired.   
Defeated

Thor stepped even closer. “You shall stand when I speak to you!” His voice was cold.

Loki stared at him and for a moment defiance darkened his features. Then it was gone and slowly he pushed himself off the wall and onto his feet.

Thor watched impatiently. When Loki stood his eyes roamed over his body.

Loki was a mess.   
He was painted with small specks of blood, black and red both, smeared all over his body. Several gashes ran over his chest, one looked like he had very nearly escaped being sliced open by a sword.   
His left side was darkened with soot.   
His pants were ripped in several places.  
His feet were bloody. 

Loki raised his chin. He was pale, his usually bright blue skin turned into a blueish gray. 

“Why, Loki?” Thor grit out, weighing Mjølner in his hands. The familiar weight grounded him, for his whole being, his heart, felt like it was going to either burst or fall apart. “Tell me why.”

Loki let out a low, breathless laugh. “Why not?” He stared down at the floor, his black hair curtaining his features.

Thor felt anger wash through him like a sea of lava, hot and all consuming. He snarled. “You will answer me, Loki. You owe me that much.”

Loki raised his eyes. He returned Thor´s stare with no emotions. “I have told you why in the past. You did not listen.”

Thor grit his teeth. “I gave you everything you asked me for. The ice houses. The school. I brought more food. I even made sure that Dellingr took it easier on all of you.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “And you repay me with...with this?”

Loki shrugged. “I guess.”

That did it.  
Thor stepped up close, Loki´s eyes widening when he was crowded into a corner. Thor snarled, his eyes blazing. “You will answer me! Why, Loki? Answer me now!”

Loki glared at him, even though he was pressed against the cool wall, one arm slung protectively around himself. He was shivering slightly. Still, he managed to sneer, voice dripping with disdain. “My apologies your majesty. Of course, you gave me everything I could ever wish for. When my people were dying of starvation you allowed me to feed them. When I found out that there were children dying because their parents could not take care of them, you allowed me to take them in.” His eyes were glittering. “And still we hunger. And still there are children that I can not reach. Why you ask me? I can tell you why.” Loki´s eyes shone brightly. “Many Jötnar believe it is a better fate for their children to _die_ than to have them in the grasp of the Asgardians. Better die free than live in chains, they say.” He took a deep breath. “I have told you this before, we are a proud people. We are not made to be slaves.”

Thor just stared at him, his jaw working. 

Loki shook his head. All of the sudden he seemed to deflate as if all the energy had been drained from him. He stared down at his feet, his voice a low murmur. “You must have known that one day we would fight you.”

“You did. And you lost.” Thor sneered. “Again.”

Loki nodded, a minute movement. “That was always the risk.”

Thor could feel the anger that had been coursing through him bubble up at this simple statement. His voice was cold, cutting. “Knowing you, I am sure that you calculated the cost of your actions. And the consequences said actions would bring on. Of what I would have to do to you!” His arm shot out and he grabbed Loki by the shoulder, fingers digging painfully into blue flesh. “What did you think your punishment would be? Tell me, Loki! What did you think? That I would have you whipped? Put back into a collar? Drag you back to Asgard?” He snarled, shaking Loki until his teeth chattered. “Feed your soul to Hǫrgrblóð? What?”

Loki´s face turned white and he made a low, pained sound, curling forward as if to protect himself. 

Thor let him go, frowning when Loki swayed on his feet, his eyes glazed over with pain. He had gripped Loki hard, but not that hard to warrant this type of response. He quickly scanned Loki's body, noticing that he still held his one arm curled around himself, as if to protect himself. The other one was hanging by his side, he had not held it up, even when Thor had shaken him. A fine tremor was running through the slight, blue form. 

Thor´s eyes widened. “You are hurt!” He stepped back, eyes scanning Loki more thoroughly. 

Loki raised his head, looking through the curtain of his lank, lackluster hair. “It is fine.” His face was ashen, his eyes dull with pain. 

Thor frowned. “Show me.” 

Loki mumbled something under his breath, shifting before he looked up again. “Whatever you say, your majesty.” He lowered his hand that was clutching his side, and Thor could immediately see that his left arm was hanging at a strange angle.  
Twisted.   
Useless. 

Thor nodded. This, bodily hurt, he understood, he knew how to deal with. “It is broken.”

“You think?” Loki had been going for a mocking tone, but now that Thor could hear the pain in it it took the edge away. 

Thor stared at him. “I will get you a healer when we are done here.”

Loki nodded. They stood still for a moment, the he reached back for his arm, pulling it against himself. He made soft noise of pain.

Thor closed his eyes. “Do you need to see the healer now?”

Loki stared at him for a moment, red eyes bright. Then he let out a low laugh. “You are a terrible captor. Already worrying about me. How are you going to punish me if you can´t even see me like this?”

Thor raised his chin, his mouth thinning. “I will do what I have to.”

Loki nodded. He looked tired again. “Of course you will.”

All of the sudden, it was too much.   
All Thor could see was Loki, broken and injured, not the enemy he had hoped to scream at, his former consort who had betrayed him so deeply.   
He felt the need to lash out. 

He stepped back, his voice was hard as stone when he spoke. “I must say, Loki, I am disappointed. You used me. I though we had something, you and I, but now I see that I was wrong. You took me to your bed for nothing but sport, while plotting behind my back. “ He watched as Loki shifted, face shining with perspiration. His voice was a low growl. “Did you enjoy it, at least? To bring me so low that I... that I allowed you to...”

“Still can´t say it?” Loki smirked faintly.

Thor grit his teeth “I have to think about your fate.” He turned to leave, just to be stopped in his tracks when he heard Loki´s low voice behind him. “Thor.” He stared at the door in front of him, unwilling to turn back. “Please. Don´t leave in anger.” There was a shallow breath and Loki continued. “I had to try to give my people their freedom. I had to make sure that they did not loose hope. That I did not loose myself in giving in.”

Thor looked back but did not turn around. “Angry, Loki? I am not angry.” His voice was much calmer than the storm inside of him. “I am _furious_. I have given you... everything.” His eyes darkened. “And you – played me. Used me.” His fingers tightened around Mjølner. “Why Loki? Why did you pretend to love me? Was it to ease my mind? To make me more pliable?” He shook his head. “Did you manipulate me from the start?”

Loki smiled tiredly. “Let´s just say I was multitasking.”

Thor closed his eyes. His mind that had been roaring went quiet all of the sudden, and his own voice sounded hollow in his ears. “I see.” He took a shallow breath, then another. “It is of no matter.” He opened his eyes and turned around, staring at Loki. His voice was cold. “You tried to give your people freedom? They will get something else entirely. They will be collared and chained. All of them. They will be flogged. Each and every one that fought against me. Your people will suffer. And you and the other leaders will stay in the dungeons.” Thor sneered. “And they will all have you to thank for.”

Loki was shivering, clutching his arm to his side. “Thor, please...”

“NO!” Thor snarled. “You have had your chance. It is over now. You have lost. And I am going to do as I must. Because that is all I have left. You have forced my hand, Loki. Now live with the consequences.”

He opened the door, staring at the torch, then closed the door behind himself.  
There was no sense to leave Loki in darkness. 

He looked up to see that Dellingr had not waited for him. The hallway was empty.   
But Thor did not fault him for it. Clearly there was a lot to do.   
He turned around and turned the key that was still in the lock, pulling it from the keyhole.  
Then he walked back to the entrance of the dungeons. 

The soldiers there stood to attention as Thor walked up to them. He passed the key to one of them, looking around, gaze sweeping over the imprisoned Jötnar around him. His eyes stopped when he saw the elder Frost Giant sitting on a bench, back bowed, brittle horns still intact. He returned Thor´s gaze without blinking, eyes deep, black pools. 

Thor ripped his gaze away. “The Laufeysons arm is broken. Get a healer to look at the injured. All of them. ”

The soldier nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”

“And that one...” He pointed at the old Frost Giant. “Let him go.”

The soldier blinked. “But my Lord...” He stuttered. “He is believed to be one of the instigators.”

Thor glowered at him. “Be that as it may. He is also old enough to die at any moment. He is no harm on the outside. Let him go.”

The elder Giant was staring at him, brow furrowed. 

Thor turned and took his leave without another word. 

 

x

 

Thor stayed in Útgarðar.

He was, more than anything else, a king of war, and that included taking care of his men and women that had fought in it, to help everyone through the aftermath. 

He walked with Dellingr over the compound, talked to soldiers and thanked them for their work. He watched as a few of the Frost Giants were flogged, muscled backs straining as most of them took their punishment in utter silence. “Another eighty or so to go.” The man who had been swinging the whip grinned. 

Thor nodded at him, turned around and left. 

He threw him himself into work, made decisions, directed his men, made plans, discussed strategies. This, this was something he knew he was good at.   
Reacting and strategizing in war times. 

He walked through the castle and looked at the worst of the damages, listening to suggestions on how to rebuild and what to prioritize. 

Thor realized that while most of the damages were superficial, they were still extensive, reaching throughout the entire castle and beyond, and the Jötnar that were currently working were doing so dragging their feet, the light in their eyes either dull and burned out or burning with reluctant fire.  
Tension seemed to hang over the entire realm and Thor understood that this rebellion was far from over. It may have been thwarted and the Jötnar defeated, but with the way the anger wavered off the Frost Giants, he felt like the entire realm was inside a pressure cooker, and it could happen again, any day, any time. 

He discussed the danger with Dellingr and they came up with a plan on how to bind the most dangerous of the Jötnar, emitting a degree that not more than five could meet at any one time and that they would need to stock up the amount of soldiers permanently. 

Thor cursed under his breath. 

It was a lot of work and man power for a realm that offered nothing in return. 

x

 

Thor stayed for several days, a calm beacon for his soldiers and Dellingr alike. 

 

x

 

On the third day of his stay a young woman with reddish, long hair stepped up to him. She was wearing the wide garb covered in the signs of a healer. “My Lord...” The young woman hesitated, her eyes flicking over the amount of scrolls and papers that Thor had spread out in front of himself. 

Thor leaned back. “Yes?”

The healer stared at him nervously. “My Lord, it is about your... “ She swallowed. “It´s about the Mage.” 

Thor´s eyes widened and it took him a moment to school his features into calmness. “The Laufeyson. What about him.”

The healer stared at him, her hands clutching into the thick fur coat she was wearing. “He is sick, my Lord. He demands to be given drops of unknown origin. I was told to talk to you first.”

Thor sucked in a breath, stood slowly. “Sick? How sick?”

“He is a high fever since yesterday. It is not from his injuries as far as I can tell. He is acting... strangely.” She pulled out a rough cup from under her coat, holing it out for Thor to survey. “He said he needed medicine he was storing in his room. I found this in his chambers.” Light blue eyes stared at Thor. 

Thor stared at the cup, took it in his hands. He took in the small amount of a viscous, dark brown liquid, pulled a face when he smelled it. It was strong, bitter and acidic. He weighed his head. Was Loki trying to poison himself? Would he do this to escape his just punishment? Or was he actually sick, with a disease that he had not told Thor about?

Thor sighed, taking another look at his scrolls. “I shall talk to him.”

The healer nodded, looking relieved. “Yes, my Lord. When?”

Thor sighed. “Now.”

x

 

Thor made his way into the dungeons next to the healer, walking fast. 

He had much to do and knew that giving in to Loki´s whimsy was probably not the best course of action.   
But he was worried.   
No matter what Loki had done to him, no matter how he had betrayed him, his heart clenched at the thought that Loki might be in pain, suffering from an unknown sickness that he had not been aware of. 

They walked past the cells, Thor ignoring the Jötnar whose red eyes were following him, step for step. He waited impatiently as the healer fumbled with the key for Loki´s cell, and stepped in as soon as it opened. The healer waited outside.

Loki was sitting on the floor once again, shivering visibly.   
His head was resting on his knees, his one arm that had not been broken slung around his body. He was rocking back and forth softly.

“Loki!” Thor tried not to cringe at the stab of worry that pierced his heart. 

He took a step forward, stopped. It smelled strange in the cell. The air was thick with a soft musk mixed with sweat, the odor not as one would expect a sick person to smell.   
Instead it was... tantalizing.   
Lighting a warm fire in his chest.   
Beckoning him. 

Loki stilled, his fingers clenching at his sides, then he let out a soft moan. “Thor?” He raised his head, fever-bright eyes staring at him. Loki blinked as if to remind himself where he was, then he shook his head. “Go away.”

Thor frowned. “Loki. What is the meaning of this? I was told that you are sick!”

Loki blinked and it took him a moment to understand what Thor had said. Then laid his head back, his face shiny with sweat. His voice was low, broken. “I am.” He swallowed, closed his eyes. “You are... _not_...helping.”

Thor stepped closer. “What has befallen you?”

Loki let out a low laugh. It was bitter, dark. “Nothing I could not...handle.” He swallowed dryly, looked at Thor, lowered his eyes again. “Just need... just need my medicine....”

Thor pressed his lips into a thin line. “Medicine. Are you speaking of this?” He held out the cup filled with the vile, brown liquid, careful not to spill it. 

Loki´s eyes widened for a fraction. Another shiver went over him, this one stronger than before. His mouth opened, a purple tongue licking at his dry lips. “Yes.” Loki stared at Thor, a single drop of sweat pearling from his forehead. Then leaned forward, clutching at his stomach with his good arm, squeezing his eyes shut.   
A thin moan escaped him as he doubled over. 

Thor pulled in a sharp breath. 

Loki was sick.   
This was not an act. 

Or was it?

Thor stared down at him, hardening his heart. “Talk to me, Loki. What kind of medicine is this? What does it do?” He wanted to go to his knees and calm his former consort, take care of him. But he could not. 

Loki was still folded over himself, breathing heavily. “Please Thor. Just... give it to me.”

Thor shook his head. “No. I shall not. Tell me what it is.”

Loki groaned again, fingers wiping along his forehead, sliding over wet skin. “By the Norns... I swear you are a thick-headed...idiotic...” He bent over again, whining under his breath. For a long moment Loki just breathed, shakily, before he continued. “I... I got them from a healer. To suppress my bond-heats.” He let out a low snarl, his eyes blazing. “There. Are you happy?”

Thor took a step back. “What do you mean? Bond-heat?”

“Seriously.” Loki clenched his fingers at his sides, let out a low moan. “Are you going to force me to talk about it _now_? Here? You damn idiot, you callous oaf, you...” Loki pressed his forehead down onto his knees once more, let out a tired laugh. He was shivering visibly now. His voice was muffled as he continued speaking.“I am going through a bond-heat. Brought on by the proximity of my _mate_.” Loki raised his head once more, glowering at Thor. He spat out the words. “That would be you, you fool. My body is primed to you. And drives me into a bond-heat. Which should then lure you back to me. The medicine...” His eyes slid over to what Thor was still holding. “It keeps the bond-heats at bay. That way I won´t go into a real heat, that way I wont go pregnant.” Loki closed his eye as another wave of spasms racked through him. 

Thor stared down at Loki. His mind was turning over sluggishly what Loki had said, but mostly it went back to one word, one phrase. “What do you mean with mate? I don´t understand...”

Loki laughed, sounding hollow. “Of course you don´t. But this is really not the time and place to discuss it... I am... I am just trying to stay sane, right now. And you being here is not helping my cause!” Loki took a deep breath. His fingers were clenching open and closed at his sides. “So either you leave and decide what you wish to do outside or you... fuck me. Because I am going to start to beg soon.”

Thor stepped back as if he had been hit. His mouth opened closed. Then he raised the cup. “And this helps...”

Loki leaned his head back into the wall with a low thud. “Yes. ” The tremors running over his body were getting more violent. “Now leave.” Loki looked up at him, his eyes filling with moisture. He stared to scratch the floor with his good hand, raking over ice again and again. “Please, Thor. Please!”

Thor swallowed, hard.  
Loki did not beg.   
Not ever. 

He turned and without another word left the cell. 

Outside the young healer stared at him. 

Thor passed the cup back to him. “Give him as much as he requires. And when he is... better, let me know. I wish to speak with him when he is of sound mind.”

The healer nodded.

Thor left.


	47. I can't decide whether you should live or die...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised a new chapter this week. 
> 
> Thanks again to all my avid readers and your kudos and bookmarks and comments.  
> Also happy belated Women's-Day. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> x

Thor stayed in Útgarðar four more days.   
The reinforcement had arrived and were immediately allocated to their different stations.  
Thor continued to discuss with Dellingr what else was necessary to secure the realm and ensure that everything was under control. 

His mind, however, continued to stray back to Loki.   
He could not stop thinking about what Loki had said, the implications he had made, how his shivering body had bowed under the onslaught of the ever-mounting fever of his approaching bond-heat. 

The images and words had burned themselves into Thor´s mind. 

He told himself that he was not waiting for the healer, did not need to know that Loki was better, but that was a lie. He asked the young woman and finally delayed his departure by one extra day to make sure that the symptoms of Loki´s bond-heat had fully passed. He wished to talk to his former consort, and he needed Loki´s mind to be clear and sharp, without any influences so he could listen to what Thor had to propose.

Then, early in the morning, the healer finally declared Loki to be fever-free.  
Thor waited for her to leave him before he rose and made his way down into the dungeons. 

The soldiers let him in without a word, and passed him the key to Loki´s cell. 

He took his time walking there, sorting the questions he had in his head.   
Before he went to open the cell door he took a deep breath, pushing his hand through his hair, straightening his gait, smoothing out his features. Then he slid in the key, unlocked the heavy door and pushed it open. 

Loki was sitting on the floor in front of a tray of food, the finger of his right hand curled around a cup of what looked like clear water. He looked up, and Thor was relieved to see that the healer had been right. Loki´s eyes were clear, the feverish shine was gone. 

Loki frowned when he saw him, then sighed and carefully placed his cup down onto the tray.   
And then he stood in one, fluid motion, facing his former lover. 

Thor allowed himself a moment, to let his eyes roam over Loki´s body, taking in his stance, the way his broken arm was bound to his stomach, the down-curl of his mouth. “Loki.” He said. “Are you feeling better?”

Loki´s eyebrows knitted, and it was clear to Thor that he tried to suppress a frown. “I am.”

Thor nodded. “I am glad. I was worried.”

Loki´s nostrils flared. “Well. You were not supposed to see me like that.”

Thor crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I gathered as much.” He said dryly. “Any other secrets you keep from me?”

Loki raised his chin, his face an emotionless mask. “Am I keeping anything else from you? You mean next to planning a rebellion and that I am suppressing my mate-induced bond-heats? No. I think that´s it.” A sly smile spread his lips. “But if I think of anything else I will let you know.”

Thor´s brow furrowed. “This is not a joke, Loki.”

Loki shrugged with one shoulder, careful not to move the other arm that was still tightly strapped to his body. “Of course not. How stupid of me.”

Thor stared at him. “I am going back to Asgard this afternoon. Upon my return I shall hold court over you and the other main instigators of this revolution. I will then decide over Jötunheimrs fate.”

Loki said nothing. 

Thor sighed. “Is there anything you wish to say before I leave?”

Loki stood still. “I said everything I had to in the past. You know that slavery is wrong. You know that Jötunheimr will always be sick as long as her core energy is broken and the winds are not contained.” Loki´s eyes sparkled. “You have known all of this for so long. And yet chose to ignore it all. So there is nothing else for me to say.”

Thor stared at him for a long moment, calculating. “Are you not going to appeal to me? Tell me how much of an idiot I am?” He raised his chin. “I have to judge over you. Decide your fate and that of all the revolutionaries. Are you not going to beg?”

Loki raised his chin, his hands fisted at his sides. “Have you forgotten who I am? I don´t _beg_.”

Thor hummed under his breath. “You did the last time I saw you. Or don´t you remember?”

Thor could see blood darkening Loki´s cheeks, and he grit out. “I was not myself.”

“Yes.” Thor drawled. “About that. Why don´t you tell me a little bit more about bond heats? It´s not like you have mentioned in the past that you and I are apparently _mated_.”

The flush that spread over Loki´s face darkened. “It is none of your concern.”

Thor could feel the well-known anger bubble up inside of him once more. “None of my concern?” Thor´s voice was deceivingly quiet. “That you are bonded to me? That you are my mate? How is that none of my concern?” Thor waited for Loki to reply, but the Jötun stayed stubbornly silent, his eyes blazing. So Thor continued. “I went out of my way to ask a couple of people about this… condition of yours. Our healers know very little about it. So I went to talk to a couple of Jötnar.” 

Loki snorted.

Thor´s mouth thinned. “Yes. It went about as good as you would expect. But everyone has their price. And in the end all three of them talked.” He closed his eyes, opened them again. “They said bond-heats are a myth. They said that mated pairs was an olden story, a fairy tale that told of lovers chosen by the Norns. They said that these mates were bound together by their head and their heart, unable to ever be with anyone else ever again. ” Thor started pacing, weighing Mjølner in his hand as he walked. “You know what? The last one I talked to, he laughed in my face. He said that you were the best lie-smith he had ever met. That this mate-talk was nothing but a ruse. That you made the story of the bond-heats up so that I would be more lenient with your sentence.” Thor stopped, his voice low and calm. “But that is not true, is it, Loki? You would not fake something like that, just to keep me from punishing you?”

Loki´s jaw was working. Then he laughed under his breath, a hollow, haunted sound. “What do you want me to say, Thor? That is it is all a lie? That I hoped that if I swooned at your feet you would free me?” His face was expressionless. “Or would you prefer if I told you that it was all true? That I can´t stop thinking about you whenever you leave my sight?” Loki stepped closer, his eyes widening dramatically. “Do you want me to tell you that it hurts when you are away, like a band in my chest pulled too tight, making it hard to breathe? Do you want me to say that that I love you?” Loki was less than a hand-span away from Thor. “Fine.” His voice was a low whisper, thick like honey. “I love you, Thor. Please. Take me away from here and...”

“Stop it! Stop your wickedness.” Thor stepped back, cursing under his breath. “You do not turn this into a spectacle. Not this. You owe me that much.”

Loki had stopped. The chain around his feet was taut, and he took a step back to relax it. His voice was void of emotion once more. “I owe you nothing.”

Thor shook his head. “You owe me the truth.”

“The truth?” Loki´s eyes narrowed. “The truth is that you and I were never meant to be. _That_ is the truth, Thor.”

Thor looked down at Mjølner, studying her intertwined designs, so well-known to him, a soothing calmness for his frayed nerves. “You are wrong, Loki.” He took a deep breath. “You know that you are.” He looked up, his blue eyes clear. “I believe you when you say that you never wished for this bond. But I also believe that it is there and that there is nothing you could do about it.” He looked at Loki, scanning him. “Am I wrong?”

Loki was clenching his one fist at his side, white spots dancing high on his cheeks. He stayed quiet for a long while, then he tossed his head to the side, his voice low. “No. You are not wrong. And I did try to break it, of course I did. But it was to no avail.” He took a deep breath. “I am repelled by the idea that my body would enslave me thus. That it would force me into a relationship, into a love that I do not want, do not require. But here we are. And guess what.” Loki smiled. “I still managed to fight you.” 

Thor nodded. “That you did. You started a revolution against me.”

Loki shook his head. “It was not I that started the revolution. It was all of us. There can only be so much discontent before a whole people rise. They just needed someone to point them in the right direction.”

Thor closed his eyes. “Let us not discuss this any more.” He opened his eyes, studying Loki. His fingers clenched around Mjølner, and when he spoke his voice was soft. “Loki. You are my mate.”

Loki´s eyes widened for the fraction of a second, then he shook his head. “No.” He whispered. But there was no bite in his words. 

Thor stepped closer. “Yes.” He said calmly. “Loki.” He waited for Loki to raise his head, to look at him. “Come back to Asgard with me.”

Loki stiffened. Then he took a step back, shoulders curling forward, his eyes blazing. “You would make me your slave once more?”

Thor took care not to make any abrupt movements. “No, Loki. Not that. I would not bind you, not ever again.” He studied Loki, his face soft. “But you would have to stop fighting against me. And in return I can ease the suffering of your people. I can...”

Loki had raised his head, voice a hiss. “Shut. Up. Thor. Just shut up. Is this your twisted, oafish way of wooing me?” He laughed, a dark, hacking sound. “You wish to take me back to Asgard, bound to you by my own, weak body? You hope that I will play the good little Ergi in return of the well-being of my people?” Loki was snarling. “I am not your slave. Nor will I ever be again. At least not of my own free will. So leave me be with your twisted suggestions.” He stared at Thor. “Go, Thor. Go back to your Golden Realm and decide over Jötunheimr´s fate there. I will not crawl at your feet and whimper for your cock, hoping that you will instead ease how hard you place your foot on the back of the neck of my people.”

Thor´s brow furrowed. “No, Loki, you misunderstand...”

Loki laughed darkly. “I don´t think I do. You come here to court me in your oafish way, bribing me with the knowledge that my body is bound to you. You know I have little options left. Don´t get me wrong, I know that you are an empty-headed idiot, worth for little more than slaying and fucking, but do not insult my intelligence. I have chosen not to follow you in the past. I have chosen my people over you. And I would do it again.” He took a deep breath. “As you said, I know that there will be consequences to my actions. And I am ready to face them. Have me flogged, bound, drag me back to Asgard as your slave, even feed me soul to Hǫrgrblóð if you so wish.” Loki stepped closer. “But you know something, Thunderer? I think you are as much bound to me as I am bound to you. So go back and choose then. For I have made my decision many years back. I do not envy you for yours.”

Thor swallowed, hard. Lightening rods of anger flashed through his body. “Once I leave here, that is it. You will have no other chance to appeal to me, no matter my decision. This is the last time you can ask for my lenience.”

Loki simply stared at him, chin raised, a stubborn look on his face.

Thor ground out. “So be it. Go down with your damned pride then, Loki.” He turned and pushed the cell door open, not looking back as he slammed it shut. 

 

x

 

Thor left for Asgard that same day.   
His head was clouded as if he was riding through a thunder storm.

He had given some last instructions to Dellingr, told him that he would return within one months time.   
And then he would speak his sentence over the people of Jötunheimr.

The way home, riding his steed hard, was a difficult one. 

Anger and heartache battled each other in a war that wrecked Thor´s body.   
Thoughts of what he would do, how he would punish Loki and the rest of the Jötnar for their misdemeanor, how he would force them to see the error of their ways circled his head like water a drain. Some of his ideas were filled with horrific wrath, others with soft lenience, and Thor knew without a doubt that judging over Loki would be extremely difficult. 

And he only had given himself a month. 

He arrived home late that same afternoon, feeling drained. 

First he visited his chambers to change from his winter clothing into something less stifling. Then he immediately called in his advisers to meet with him in one of the strategy rooms. He went through his list of things that were still required in Jötunheimr to cement Asgard´s claim, listening to further suggestions of the wise men and women that were standing by his side. 

As the meeting went on, the afternoon turned into evening, the evening turned into night.  
At one point Thor put an end to it, asking for it to reconvene later the next day.

Afterwards Thor helped himself to a quick bite of bread and roast to quench the worst of his hunger.

He went to his rooms but stopped in front of them, staring at the red, laquered wood.   
Then he turned back and continued walking down the hallway. 

He knew whom he wanted to see tonight. 

He wished to see Odin. 

For he had not visited his father in months.   
Maybe even longer. 

When Odin had first fallen into the deep sleep that no-one could rouse him from, many years ago, Thor had visited his bedside often. He had then sat and watched over his father many an hour, telling him about his kingship and asking for his advice, as if he was still awake and able to answer. Thor valued the time spend with the Allfather, though he wished that he would wake again soon, helping and guiding him in running the kingdom. 

But as the centuries had passed Thor had found himself drawn less and less to the golden chamber. For as the years went by, seeing Odin sleep his never-ending sleep filled Thor with a sadness that quickly morphed into something completely different - irritation and resentment.

So much knowledge wasting away, so many questions left unanswered.  
He still had so much to learn and few people to turn to.  
Everything his father was and knew, all of it was out of reach. 

And no matter what the healers tried, what spells Frigga and other sorcerers spoke over him, Odin stayed asleep.   
It was infuriating. 

All of this was brewing in the back of his head as Thor continued to walk.  
He hoped that the Allfather´s mere presence would help him make a choice regarding Jötunheimr´s future. A choice that Odin would have been proud of. 

Finally Thor arrived in front of the large, lacquered door that led to his father's chambers. His fingers curled around the golden handle, and he took a deep breath before he pushed it down and stepped inside. 

He blinked at the familiar sight that was laid out before him. 

The enormous bed that Odin was sleeping upon dominated the large room. The walls surrounding them were painted with healing murals and depictions of Odin´s greatest battles, the one-eyed God with his raised fist holding Gungnir, his enemies defeated and kneeling before him.   
The floor was covered in red carpet that was soft to the touch.

Next to the bed stood a small table and a couple of chairs, a large vase filled with freshly cut flowering branches and long grass filling the room with a fresh but spicy scent. 

Otherwise the room was empty. 

Thor stepped closer, his eyes drawn down to his father´s figure, looking almost small under the thin golden blanket.

Odin looked peaceful.

His hair and beard had gotten longer but were carefully trimmed, his face was creased but relaxed, his gnarled fingers resting on top of the covers. 

Thor pulled up a chair and sat down, reached out to hold his fathers hand.   
It was warm, slightly rough, but it felt thinner than he remembered it.   
As if Odin was slowly wasting away and would, one day, simply evaporate into nothingness. 

Thor blinked, his voice rough as he spoke. “Father.” He cleared his throat. “There has been a revolution in Jötunheimr.” He waited, as he always did when he first spoke, for Odin to acknowledge him, to open his eyes, to somehow indicate that he had heard, understood.   
Something.   
Anything.

But, as always, there was no reaction, no twitch of Odin´s closed eyes, no tremor in his fingers. 

Nothing at all. 

Thor sighed, hanging his head. 

He realized that he had, against all odds, hoped for a reaction.  
That Odin would, miraculously, rise and offer him a solution on how to handle the current crisis.

But clearly he had no such luck. 

Thor shook his head, rubbed his hand over his face. His voice was low when he spoke, urgent. “Father. I don´t know what to do.” He took another deep breath, his eyes fixated on the figure before him.

And slowly Thor started to talk. 

He told his sleeping father about Jötunheimr, about the issues of the realm, the storms, the hunger, the stubbornness and pride of the Frost Giants. He talked about what they had done there, about the road constructions and food distribution system, about the ice houses and orphanage, about the issues they faced and the resistance they fought.

Then he talked about the revolution.   
He told the Allfather the facts, how many of the Jötnar had rebelled, the resulting deaths on both sides, the amount of destruction it had caused to Útgarðar. He talked about how many more soldiers would now have to be stationed in Jötunheimr. How he would, once more, have to start to import food into the realm to make sure that everyone was fed. 

Thor knew better than to speak about Loki.   
He wanted to say how hurt he was and how hard he had been hit by the betrayal of his former consort.   
But he knew that the Allfather would not be interested in feelings.  
Sentiment had no place in a war.   
Thor remembered that lesson well.

So he concluded with the potential punishments he was considering and what actions he could take. 

And then Thor stopped. 

He took a deep breath, looking into the heavily creased face of the Allfather.   
And he felt like, even through the silence, he could hear Odin answering him, his voice hard and clipped. 

_The Jötnar have betrayed you, their rightful king..._  
They have learned nothing from the last war...  
They have brought this on themselves....  
Do not go soft on those animals... 

On and on the voice in his head went, relentless, cutting, cold. 

_A king has to be hard. Has to be merciless._  
Otherwise all the other realms will know how weak Asgard has become.  
You are my son.  
Do not shame me so. 

Thor shook his head, started massaging his temples. 

He knew that Odin would have asked pointed questions and in the end would have come to a simply conclusion very quickly: That the Jötnar would have to be severely punished. And that Loki was to blame for the revolution. Loki was much smarter than the average Jötnar, insanely driven, his silver tongue a weapon he could have wielded to influence and manipulate others to follow his lead.   
Thor was pretty sure that his father would have told him to feed Loki´s soul to Hǫrgrblóð.   
Or to imprison him until the end of times. 

He shifted in his chair, and when he closed his eyes his fathers voice became even louder.  
Thor sat still and listened, allowing pictures and ideas of what his father might have wanted overwhelm him.

As the night turned older he felt more and more empty, hollowed out. 

Finally he laid his head on the silky golden blanket that covered Odin and closed his eyes, still hearing his fathers words swarm through his head. 

Thor fell asleep. 

x

 

He was woken by a soft hand on his shoulder.  
He pulled in a sharp breath, head snapping up, hand reaching for Mjølner.

“Easy, son. It is just me.”

Thor blinked, rubbing his hand over his face. He looked up at Frigga, who was standing next to him, the look on her face somber.

“Mother.” He said, voice rough from sleep. “I bid you good....” He looked around. Light from the early suns was shining through the window. “...morning.”

Frigga leaned in to press a soft kiss against his forehead. She turned to pull up a second chair to the bed. “May I?” She asked, waiting for Thor´s acknowledging nod before she sat down. He could see that the lines around her eyes were creased with worry. “How are you feeling, Thor?”

Thor still felt slightly disoriented with sleep, but his mind cleared quickly when he remembered what had occurred in the past week, in the past hours. He straightened himself, his brow furrowing at the memories. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes. “There was an uprising in Jötunheimr.” He said quietly. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away at the grime that still stuck to his eyes. 

Frigga nodded, her eyes dark. “I know.” She said simply. “I am sorry, Thor.”

Thor shrugged. “I should have seen it coming.” His mouth was dry, tasting of ashes.

Frigga laid her hand on his thickly muscled arm, squeezing him affectionately. She shook her head slowly. “I am sure that if you had seen it coming that you would have tried to prevent it.”

Thor turned towards her. “He betrayed me.” The words slipped out without a thought and he clamped his lips shut when he realized what he had said. 

Frigga nodded. “So I heard.” Her eyes were clear and focused, the deep blue of them sparkling. “What are you going to do?”

Thor stared down at her milky white hand on his sunburned skin. He slowly shook his head. “I don´t know.” He took a deep breath then, his eyes wandering to the Allfather, latching onto the memory of the words he had heard in his head, stern and unforgiving. When he spoke again his voice was without emotion. “I will have to punish them. All of them.” 

Frigga bowed her head in acknowledgment, but Thor could feel her fingers tightening around the flesh of his arm. He looked at her, mouth pulled into a thin line. “There is no other way.”

Frigga returned his gaze calmly. For a moment she said nothing, then spoke. “There is always another way.”

Thor frowned.   
This he had not expected.   
He cleared his throat. “Father would have...”

Frigga shook his head, her nails digging into his flesh slightly before she released him. She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. She raised her chin, her voice just as calm and collected as his. “Yes. Your father would have punished them. Severely. He would have been merciless in his retribution, I am sure.” She looked over at Odin, took a deep breath. “Thor. You are not like your father.”

Thor stared at her. “But I am. And I am king.”

Frigga smiled at him, but it did not reach her eyes. “Your father was a product of a very different generation. He did what he felt he had to do.” Her eyes sparkled. “But you are not your father. You do not have to be as hard and unrelenting as he was.”

Thor narrowed his eyes. He could feel his heart thunder in his chest. “What are you saying, mother?”

Frigga returned his gaze without flinching. “What I am saying is that you are king. And that you do not have to follow anyone´s orders. You can do as you choose. And that also means that you can take a different path than what your father might have taken.” She paused for a moment before she continued. “Thor. You could take the path of peace. If you so choose. 

Thor sucked in a deep breath. “Peace? After this betrayal?”

Frigga sighed. Her demeanor was still calm, still soothing. “I am not sure that I see betrayal in the Jötnar´s actions. Or in what Loki did. For if you had been in his place and had lived his life, would not you have done exactly the same thing? Would you not have fought for your freedom, for what you believed to be fair and just?” She stared at him. “Are you not a just king?”

Thor stood, the chair´s legs scraping over the floor. He glowered down at Frigga, a muscle jumping in his chin. “Mother. What are you suggesting? I can not allow these... traitors to get away with their misconducts. No. My people expect me to punish the Jötnar harshly. It is what Odin would have done.”

Frigga did not move, looking up at her son. “You are not Odin. And you are not a slave to your people.” 

Thor blinked. He shook his head. “I have given my word to protect and to serve Asgard, to keep her people from harm, to make my enemies tremble and to force all traitors to their knees. If I am lenient against the Jötnar, who have openly rebelled against me, I will appear to be weak. Unfit to rule.”

Frigga slowly rose as well. “No one would think you unfit. You are king. Your word is law. And if some do not understand or value your choices, well – they have no say in what you do. No one does.”

Thor took a deep breath. “If I allow lenience, people will think that Loki has put a spell on me. That I am under his thrall.”

Frigga just smiled at him. “You sound like your father.” She cocked her head. “Thor, have you ever considered that it does not matter what people think of you? Or that some even might find you exceptionally strong for going against your father´s legacy, against what everybody had believed you would do?” Her eyes softened once more. “If you choose peace, you will will allow love to prevail over war and hate. And love is the strongest force of all.”

Thor shook his head, stepped away. “You wish to make me a traitor to my people? To go against everything father ever stood for?”

“No. I do not.” Frigga stood tall. “But Odin had his war. You did not inherit it.” She reached out his hands, offering them to Thor. “You may be Odin´s son. But you are mine as well.”

Thor stared at her for a long moment, his fingers tightening around the door handle.   
Then without another word he pushed the door open and left. 

 

x

 

Frigga´s words, her attitude, their whole conversation haunted Thor over the next couple of days and nights. The seed of doubt that he had carried in his heart for many years had been watered by her words, and now it was growing. Thor continued to deliberate as he threw himself into work, preparing to make his choice to judge a whole people. 

One night he was wandering deeply lost in thought and found himself standing in front of Odin´s vault. It was the place where the Allfather stored all the artifacts that he had taken from victorious battles and stored for safekeeping. 

Thor hesitated only a moment, then he opened the enormous winged door, stepped inside.

He let his gaze roam, taking in all the trophies of countless wars, locked away from their true homes, hoarded and forgotten. Even without aptitude to magic he could feel the power that this chamber held, pulsating all around him. There were many artifacts; weapons of power greater than one could perceive, the energy cores of entire realms and planets, scrolls that held the key to eternal life, spell books that contained words that could doom entire civilizations.

His hand wandered over the dark stone of Hǫrgrblóð, another relic stolen, his eyes roaming until they stopped on the Casket of Ancient Winters. 

This.   
This was the source of all their problems, one of the reasons that Jötunheimr was where it was today. 

Carefully Thor stepped up to it, reaching out but not daring to touch the blue stone.   
This was the energy of a whole entire realm laid out before him.   
The Casket that had held the storms of a thousand death-bringing winters, that had been unleashed on Jötunheimr by one of their own. Odin had said that it would never return to the Icen Realm, for it was too great of a weapon to ever fall into the wrong hands ever again.

But Thor wondered. 

What hands were the wrong ones if this was an artifact of Jötunheimr?  
Was not keeping the Casket here, in Asgard, an act of war in itself?   
Was it not wrong to take away the possibility of the Jötnar to ever fix the energy of their realm, to allow them to harness the winds so that the suns could shine upon the frozen earth once more, to help food to grow and hearts to heal?

Had not Loki said to him, a long while ago, that he hurt because his realm was so broken?

Thor frowned, shook his head.

Odin had been the kind of ruler that had punished acts of war and resistance against Asgard mercilessly.

He would have never returned the Casket. 

Not ever. 

Thor stood in silence for a long while, watching the soft pulsation of the glowing blue stone before him.

When he left much later that same night, his mother´s words echoed in his mind: _You are not your father. You might be his son. But you are my son as well._

x

 

Ten days later Thor went to visit Frigga. 

She was standing in the library, fingers hovering over the pages of an ancient looking book. 

“Mother.” He stood in the entrance awkwardly, waiting until she had turned around, her features lighting up when saw him. “Thor. To what do I owe the rare pleasure?”

He stepped up into her open arm and returned her kiss. Then he stepped back, the words he wished to speak heavy on his tongue. “Mother. I wish to apologize for my words of disdain in Odin´s chamber.”

Frigga smiled. “All is well, my dear. No excuses necessary.” She watched him closely, waiting for him to continue.

Thor took a deep breath, his chest rising and lowering. “Second of all I wish to get your feedback on my thoughts about Jötunheimr and the Casket of Ancient Winters...”

The smile on Frigga´s lips spread. “Why don´t you have a seat, Thor?”


	48. In the end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh... this chapter kicked me in the balls hard.  
> So I am giving up and just throwing it out there because I don't think it is going to get any better than this.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> x

Thor was sitting in the throne room, going through the stack of papers he had brought back from Asgard. He felt nervous, his fingers clammy even in the frigid temperature that the three lit fireplaces could not seem to disperse. 

Today was the day.   
The day he would pass judgment over Loki  
Over an entire realm. 

Thor wiped his fingers on his pants before he went through the papers that he had spread out before him once more.

The room around him was silent apart from Dellingr, who continued to talk, voicing his opinions about different types of punishment he wished to doll out. How he would tighten the reigns, as he called it, forcing the Jötnar into even harder labor, how he could not wait for them to suffer, and on and on and on. 

Thor had tuned him out a long while back, staring at the stacks of sheets in front of him.

There were two separate verdicts he had written out and brought along.  
For he was still not fully committed to either one. 

After he had talked to Frigga, after churning ideas in his head, over and over, he believed he had come to a decision. A decision he could live with and stand behind, even if he would not be fully proud of it.   
But every now and then he had a moment of doubt. Then it was as if Odin was speaking to him, a strong voice echoing in the depth of his mind, and he could not fully dismiss the perceived advantage of the more archaic punishment that he knew that the Allfather would approve of. 

For what if it all went wrong?  
What if taking the way of peace turned out much different from what he imagined it to be?  
What if it was a mistake?

And what if he made the wrong choice and Odin woke up soon?  
What would he think of his wayward son then?

Therefore, just to be safe, Thor had carefully considered several options, meticulously worked them out and taken them down. And now two of them laid out in front of him, written in his scratchy writing on ice-proof paper, one choice as valid as the other. 

All he had to do now was pick either one. 

Thor took a deep breath, closed his eyes. 

Dellingr had finally fallen silent. Still, over the crackling of the fire Thor could make out the low murmurs of some of the others. He had asked eight of the most high-ranking generals and soldiers that did their duty in the Icen realm to listen in and witness the verdict that Thor was about to speak. 

And all of them were waiting for Loki.   
For the slight Jötun to be brought to them in chains, to be trialed and punished. 

Thor huffed out a breath, opened his eyes. He suppressed the urge to get up and pace to calm his nerves.

At least he had not given in to Dellingr´s request of placing the suppressor collar onto Loki. He had shaken his head when it had been brought up, crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You shall not bind his seiðr. He will not flee.”

Dellingr had stared at him, shaking his head in disapproval. “Of course he will try to get away. Or worse, bewitch us. Injure us with his magic!”

But Thor had not relented. “Just tell him that if he uses his seiðr to escape his sentence, others shall be punished in his stead.”

He did understand the request his ambassador had put forward, of course he did. But he also remembered how badly Loki had reacted to the collar when he had been enslaved in Ansgard, how deeply he had hated it when his seiðr had been taken from him. 

Thor did not wish to put him through that again.   
And he knew that Loki would not allow others to suffer for him. Not if he could avoid it.

And now they were on their way, and all Thor could do was sit and wait. 

It felt like an eternity before the soldiers finally returned.

Thor heard them come down the long hallway, the clanking of chains and heavy booted steps echoing along icen walls, announcing their impending arrival. He forced himself to stay seated as the party stepped through the door, the heavy wings closing behind them. He raised his head, watching the small group make their way to where he was seated behind a large desk.   
Dellingr took a seat to his right, two more advisers to his left.   
The rest of them remained standing. 

Four soldiers were leading Loki, two holding heavy chains that connected to the wide collar around the prisoners neck. Those in turn were connected to cuffs around his hands and feet by two thinner chains. 

Thor clenched his fingers under the table before he relaxed them. 

What a farce.   
It was nothing more than a ridiculous demonstration of power.   
For everybody in the room, Loki included, knew that if he so wished he could magic himself away in an blink of an eye.   
What bound him more heavily than chains was the knowledge that he would hurt others with his actions. 

So Loki bore the chains with a tense look on his face, head held high. 

Thor could not keep himself from scanning Loki as he stepped in front of him. He felt like like Loki´s slender frame had gotten even thinner since he last saw him, cheekbones and the outline of his rips visible as dark smudges under blue skin.   
Circles under his eyes spoke of many sleepless nights.   
Which made sense when one considered the charges that hung over him today: Treason.   
And yet Loki oozed a quiet defiance, underlined by a dangerous sparkle in his red eyes. 

At least his spirit had not been broken. 

For a moment there was silence in the large room, the crackling of the three fire places the only sound around them. 

Then Dellingr rose from his seat next to Thor. His voice was loud, demanding attention. “Loki Laufeyson.” He paused for a moment, eyes never leaving the prisoner in front of them. “You are here to be trialed for treason.”

Loki did not blink, did not lower his eyes. Instead he just continued to stare at the ambassador. 

Dellingr leaned in, placing his hands on the table, leaning on them “You are accused of planing the revolution of the Jötnar against Asgard and your rightful king. You have, with malicious intent, employed others to follow your poisoned ideas. You have...

Thor once more stopped listening to Dellingr talking himself into a fury.  
It was tiresome.  
Instead he focused on Loki. 

His former lover´s features were as if chiseled from ice, and he stared straight ahead as accusation after accusation battered against him. If he was disturbed or nervous, he did not betray it. 

“... Furthermore you are accused of for the lighting fires in several stables and thus damaging the king´s property. You are accused of...”

Thor looked down at his papers once more, fingers stroking over his own handwriting.   
Two choices.   
And he would have to make his decision here, today. 

Now. 

“How do you plead?”

Thor lifted his head. 

Dellingr was finally done, standing straight, looking incredibly smug.   
Loki´s face, on the other hand, was still a mask, void of any emotion.

After a long pause, Dellingr cleared his throat, face tinged a light red. “Prisoner. I said how do you plead?”

Loki stared straight ahead. “Guilty, of course.” His voice was low, but well audible. 

There was a shift of the soldiers holding him in place by his chains, a low murmur of the row of high-ranking officials lined up behind Thor. Maybe some of them had believed that Loki would start to plead his case, to use his silver tongue to try and talk himself out of this predicament. 

But Loki said nothing else. 

Thor nodded. 

It was just as well. 

He cleared his throat. “I shall then read my verdict.” He calmly picked up one of the stacks of paper and laid it out before him. His heart was thumping in his chest, loud enough for him to believe that everyone in the room would be able to hear it. From the corner of his eyes he could see the triumphant smirk on Dellingr´s face as he leaned in closer, as if not miss a single moment.

Loki, on the other hand, still showed no emotion.  
However Thor could see the slight clench of two of his fingers, the way his breathing was shallower than normal. It betrayed his nervousness.

Thor waited for just another moment before he spoke, voice loud and clear. “Loki Laufeyson.” He paused, took a deep breath. “I hereby release you from all charges against the crown.” Thor raised his head. “You are free to go.”

There was shocked silence.   
Loki´s eyes widened for just a fraction. His clenched fingers released and he stared at Thor in disbelief. 

Dellingr had turned towards Thor. “What?”

Thor ignored him. He indicated at the soldiers that had brought Loki with a wave of his hand. “Take off his chains. He is a prisoner nor more.”

Dellingr leaned in, voice low, urgent. “What are you doing? He is accused of high treason!”

“Yes.” Thor said calmly. “And I released him.” He raised his voice, directed at the soldiers that still stood frozen on the spot. “Take of his chains. Now.”

The soldiers exchanged glances but then moved, one of them fishing for the key in his belt, slotting it into the locks that held Loki imprisoned. Loki just continued to stare at Thor, his face slightly paler than it had been before. Still he remained silent. 

Dellingr was still speaking, his voice rising. “You can´t just release him. He was the cause of the revolution! He has a wicked mind and needs to be held accountable...”

Thor turned towards him, voice a low rumble. “Dellingr. I have made my decision. And it stands.”

A dark flush had spread over Dellingr´s face, turning him a dark red. “You can´t do this. This is a mockery against everything we stand for. You...”

Thor´s eyes were like splinters of ice. “I am your king. And I do not have to explain myself to you.” He let the words sink in. “I have more to read out. So, I bid you to hold your tongue until I am finished.” Dellingr was staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Slowly he leaned back in his chair. His red cheeks were speckled with white spots. 

In the meantime the soldiers had taken off their prisoners shackles.  
Loki stood in silence, rubbing at his wrists in a slow, careful motion. He was still staring at Thor, his back straight and eyes narrowed, as if he expected Thor to take back his words any moment now. 

Thor looked down at his papers. “I have some conditions regarding your release.” He looked up, waiting until Loki gave a short, curt nod.

Thors fingers curled tighter around the paper in front of him. He took a deep breath, focusing on the deep reds of Loki´s eyes. “Loki Laufeyson. After your release you shall join me to work out a contract regarding the release of Jötunheimr.”

For a moment nobody said a word. 

Then the chair next to Thor fell to the floor as Dellingr stood abruptly, a loud bang in the otherwise shocked silence. “WHAT IN THE NORNS NAME ARE YOU DOING?” Very slowly Thor turned towards his adviser. Dellingr was bright red, fists clenched in front of him. “YOU CAN´T RELEASE THEM! THEY ARE NOTHING BUT BEASTS.” Dellingr stared at Loki, hatred spraying from his eyes. “I know we should have put you in the collar. You bewitched him. You have...”

Thor remained calm. “Dellingr. I assure you that I am of sound mind. Now sit and be silent, or I shall have you removed.”

Dellingr was still standing, staring down at Thor. “You can not do this. You can´t just let them _go_. They are a war-mongering, dense people. They committed treason. They led a revolution against you! ” Dellinfr was snarling. “Odin has fought these beasts because they are too dumb to uphold a peace contract. We _know_ this.” He pointed an accusing arm towards Loki, spittle flying from his mouth “You can not destroy everything that your father build just because you like the way his cunt feels.”

Thor slowly rose. “Dellingr. This is my last warning. Sit down and keep your silence. Or I will consider putting you in chains instead!”

For a long moment both men stared at each other. A muscle jumped in Dellingr´s jaw, and he swallowed convulsively.“You will ruin everything your father has build here.” He whispered. 

Thor shook his head. “No. I am not destroying what he build. Instead I am building something new. Something different. Now have a seat. I do not wish to be here all day.”

Thor waited.   
The silence became oppressive as Dellingr stared at him, his teeth grinding loud enough for everyone to hear. Then he gave a jerky nod, his hands clenched at his sides. And then, very slowly, he sat down once more. Thor waited for another moment before he turned back towards Loki. His voice was calm. “I require a contract to be signed.”

Loki took a deep breath, his chest rising, then falling. “Contract? What type of contract?”

Thor looked back at the papers on the table. He pulled one out, eyes scanning the carefully written list. “I need an insurance that Jötunheimr will remain at peace with Asgard before I remove my soldiers.” He looked up into Loki´s red eyes. “I require your written word. A peace contract, if you will.”

Loki raised his chin. “I am not in the position to speak for my people in this regard. You should get a group of Jötnar together to discuss this. Not just me.”

Thor raised his hand, the movement quieting Loki. “”I understand your concern. And it speaks for you to make this type of suggestion. However I have not yet given you the full picture.” Thor straightened, smiled. “Loki Laufeyson, not only do I mean to free you and your people. No. I also mean to make you king of the Jötnar. And therefore the contract or anything else for that matter will be your choice to make.”

Dellingr choked out a strangled sound next to him. “You...you...”

Thor raised his hand, effectively silencing the ambassador.

Loki drew in a sharp breath. He seemed shocked. It took him a moment to get his wits together before he answered. “It is not your decision to make whom the Frost Giants take as their king.”

Thor continued to focus on Loki. “You are the only surviving son of Laufey. You are a level-headed leader. The Jötnar will be lucky to call you your king.”

Loki looked around before he focused back on Thor. “A king is decided by a ritual of strength. Not like this. I...”

“Enough.” Thor raised his hand. “I wish you to think about it. But this is my condition for the release of the Icen realm. There is nothing else to be said.”

Loki stood tense for a moment, then nodded. “What other conditions will you have?”

Thor looked down at the papers under his fingers. “I have brought the contract. We should discuss it in detail. It covers the usual – All hostilities shall be stopped, a truce will have to be signed. Then there are suggestions like placement of an ambassador of both parties in the respective realms, trading, schooling...”

Loki interrupted him. “What about the Casket of Ancient Winters?”

Dellingr choked out a sound. Thor opened his mouth, but the man at his side was already spluttering in his stead. “He will _free_ you! You and your damned realm. And still you make demands? You should be groveling at his feet, you ungrateful little _witch_!”

Thor could feel irritation rising inside of him. He grit his teeth as he turned towards Dellingr, but stopped when Loki answered in his stead, his voice calm and collected. “Believe me, I grovel at his feet enough. But now is not the time for that, don't you think?” He turned back towards Thor. “The Casket.” He repeated. “What about it?”

Thor shoot Dellingr another warning look. The ambassador was shaking in his chair from suppressed anger, but he said no more. So Thor turned back to Loki. “Of course. My apologies, I have forgotten to mention it.” He cleared his throat. “I have called in sorcerers to discuss the possibilities on how to reinstate the Casket in Jötunheimr. They are not sure how to recapture the winds, not just yet.”

Loki raised his chin. “But you will return it?”

Thor nodded. “When the contract is signed and I am sure that I can expect Jötunheimr to be a future friend of Asgard, then yes, the Casket of Ancient Winters shall be returned to its rightful place.”

Murmurs rose behind him, and he could hear the Asgardians shifting, clearly troubled with the turn that the discussion had taken. 

Loki ignored them. He took a deep breath. “I thank thee.” He said simply. 

Thor inclined his head. “Good. I propose that we do not delay the matters any further. We should start working on the contract right away. If it is amicable.”

Loki nodded. “It is.”

Thor nodded, then rose from his chair, turning towards Dellingr and the high-ranking officials that were still standing behind him. All of them were stunned into silence. “I thank you for your attendance today. We are done for now.” He could see confusion and anger blooming on the faces of the men and women, and he continued before any of them spoke. “I would ask you not to utter a single word about the verdict to anyone. Until the contracts have been discussed and signed, nothing is official.” He offered a curt nod. “You may take your leave.”

Dellingr slowly rose. His face was pale now, a stark contrast to the bright red it had been earlier. While the others started to leave he stayed in place, staring at Thor, his lips thin. “You are making a mistake. Whatever this one has said to you, it is not right. You are destroying everything that the Allfather build in this realm.”

Thor inclined his head. “I am very grateful for the work you have done. And I understand your concerns.” Dellingr stood still. Thor continued. “And you are right. I am working on a solution that his very different from what the my father would have done. That does not make it wrong. As I said, I am not destroying, I am building something new.”

Dellingr´s eyes flicked over to Loki, then back to Thor. “You are making a mistake.”

Thor´s lip thinned. “Be that as it may. It is my mistake to make. I am king.” 

Dellingr stared at him for another long moment, the muscle in his jaw jumping. Then, without another word he turned and left the room, leaving the door open behind him. 

Thor sighed. 

He indicated to the two soldiers that still stood by the door to close it. “You can wait outside.”

They nodded, their eyes running over Loki once more before they turned and took their leave. 

And that was that. 

They finally were alone. 

Thor sighed, pushed a hand through his hair. He then turned back to Loki who was still standing in the middle of the room, as if glued on the spot. He pulled out a chair next to him. “Please, Loki. Have a seat.” 

Loki took a deep breath. Then he slowly walked towards the table where he stopped, staring down at Thor. Thor smiled up at him. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink? To eat? We are going to be here for a while.”

Loki stared at him. “What are you doing?”

Thor looked at him. “I am offering you refreshments. You look thin.”

Loki´s brow furrowed. “You know what I mean. What are you _doing_?” He remained standing, ignoring the chair Thor had pulled out for him. “Freeing me? Freeing Jötunheimr? Making me _king_?”

Thor looked at him steadily. “It is what you wanted, isn't it? To be free?”

Loki´s eyes narrowed. His voice was low. “What game are you playing? What are you trying to achieve?”

Thor sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing.” He leaned back in his chair, raised his palms in a peaceful gesture. “All you said, all these years, it was true. Everything. This...” He focused on Loki. “This was not just. And I mean to be a just king.”

Loki shifted. “Odin believed that what he did was rightful. And just, as you call it.”

Thor looked up. “He did. But I am not my father.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Loki. Please sit down and let us talk.”

Finally a small smile spread Loki´s lips. “No. I guess you are not.” And he pulled up a chair and sat down.

 

x

 

The discussions took the better part of three days. 

Loki was, just as Thor had expected, a hard and ruthless negotiator. 

On the first day they went over the general setup, the suggested contract that Thor had brought, sentence by sentence, word by word.

Loki remained cool and collected through the negotiations, his thoughts sharp, questioning everything that Thor was willing to offer and demanding more.

That was fair enough. 

The peace treaty and its general guidelines were discussed - the amount of soldiers Asgard was allowed to station in Jötunheimr for the first five years, ten years, fifty years, one hundred. What rights the Asgardians soldiers had. What was expected of the Jötnar. They talked about the needs of an ambassador that should be stationed in either realm, one that should be approved by the king of the realm it was to be placed in. Which meant that Dellingr, unless Loki approved him first, would have to leave the Icen realm. 

The idea of exchanging students for a couple of years to learn each other customs stood in the room. To exchange tutors. However that would require a certain measure of peace and trust to begin with. 

Thor suggested an official trading route between Asgard and Jötunheimr, to exchange goods and services as required. When Thor had brought up the idea Loki had narrowed his eyes. “That is nice and good, and I know what Asgard has to offer... but what would you want to import from Jötunheimr? Ice?”

Thor shrugged, his grin lopsided. “Icen wine?”

Loki stared at him, then his mouth pulled into a small smile. 

After that Loki had relaxed visibly. 

They took down a list of goods that could be brought and sold as specialties in the markets of Asgard, fish and Icen gold, meat and pelt. Most of these types of merchandise was currently rare and would be hard to get a hold of, but with the chance of the Casket of Winter to be reinstated and the winds recaptured, that should change long-term. For then animals should return, the seas would calm to ensure fishing and trades like gold mining and creation of jewelery could once more be undertaken.

In turn Asgard would send supplemental food, luxury goods like paper and books, wood and metal, mead and wheat.

When they had taken down what they could think of Thor leaned back. “Anything else?”

Loki stared down at the list, worrying his lip. When he looked up again his face was smug, a small light shining in his eyes. “Actually yes. There is one more thing we could import into Asgard.” He grinned. “Ice.”

Thor frowned. “What?”

Loki leaned back, looking satisfied. “Ice. Jötunheimr could export ice. Of a very high quality, of course.”

Thor stared down at the paper. “Ice...” He murmured. 

Loki nodded. “Ice is needed everywhere. To cool food to keep it from spoiling. To add to drinks when it is hot outside. And you could crush it and mix it with honey or milk, for a sweet desert. You know. Ice.”

Thor raised his gaze. Then he laughed softly. “Ice. You know that you are brilliant, Loki?”

Loki smiled back. “I know.”

And on and on it went. 

By the end of the third day Thor was exhausted, a large bundle of tightly written ideas stacked in front of him. He passed a quill to Loki and watched as he signed each sheet of the icen-proof paper with a steady hand, his flourishing signature curly next to Thor´s harsh scratch. 

He looked at Loki. “It is done.”

Loki nodded, smiled. “That it is.”

Thor sighed. “Now we have to tell your people. 

x

 

The meeting was set for the very next day. 

Thor found Loki in the library in the morning, the slight Jötnar staring through the window into the dancing storm. An open book laid under his fingers, forgotten. 

“Loki.” Thor said softly as he walked up to him. 

Loki blinked, turned towards him. 

Thor nodded at him. “It is time.”

Loki took a deep breath, slowly rose. When he stood he faced Thor, his features were strained. 

Thor had to hold himself back from sweeping an errand curl of hair out of his face. “Are you worried?” His voice was soft.

Loki´s eyes widened, then his features shuttered shut. “What should I be worried about?”

Thor shrugged. “How do you think they will react to the news? The Frost Giants, I mean?”

Loki´s eyes slipped into a corner, took on a faraway stare. “They will be fine.”

Thor huffed out a breath. “What if they won´t? What are we going to do then?”

Loki sighed. “It is a little late to worry about that now, isn't it? I am sure that your amazing power of persuasion will convince them.” A small smile slid over his lips. “Or you can beat it into their thick heads with that hammer of yours. Either will do.”

Thor took a deep breath. “They will say that I only made you king because I sleep with you.”

Loki turned towards him, chin raised. “Let them. It is as good a reason as any. Isn't it?”

Thor growled under his breath, irritated. “This is no joking matter, Loki.” He opened the door for Loki, watched as he stepped through it. “When was the last time that a Mage was the ruler of the Jötnar?”

Loki waved away the question. “I am not sure. A long time ago. A very _very_ long time ago.” They walked slowly, side by side. Loki held his head high, the look on his face of quiet confidence. “Do not worry, Thor. I have established myself as a leader in the underground for years now. I have, believe it or not, many supporters. They respect me.” 

Thor frowned. 

Loki sighed. “Ok, maybe not that many, but enough to have a good foundation. I think I already know which people I will put into some important positions, to stroke their ego and keep them close. Also because they are well suited to do the job, but that is beside the point.

“Just promise me to be careful, Loki.”

Loki smiled at him. “When was I ever careful, Thor?”

 

x

 

The gathering was a tense affair.

Too many people crammed into the throne room, over fifty Frost Giants and easily the double amount of Asgardians.

Thor was standing in the front, Loki next to him, Dellingr, red-faced and unhappy looking on his other side. 

Thor waited until the last of the crowd came into the room, then he had the doors closed when it was clear that not everyone would make it. He would have to have another declaration to be spread at a later point. For now this would have to do. 

The tension in the room was thick, a heavy thing that made it hard to breathe. 

Apart from the few people that had attended the first time that Thor had read the verdict, no one knew about what Thor was to declare today. 

There had been rumors, of course.  
After all people had seen Loki being led from the prison in chains, that he had been kept in the throne room for days on end and then finally was allowed to walk the halls freely for the last couple of days. Many believed that he had made a deal, for himself, to ease his own punishment.

It felt like they were inside a pressure cooker, tension crackling through the room.   
The aggression was palpable. 

Thor rose from his seat.  
The murmuring quieted and then stilled. 

He waited for another moment, raising a stack of papers. “As of today...” He paused for good measure, saw fists clenching and heads narrowing, red eyes sparkling dangerously all around him. “As of today all Jötnar are to walk free.” He could see shock and disbelief spread over the faces of the Frost Giants and Asgardians alike. “Furthermore I shall release Jötunheimr to be its own autonomous state once more. And Loki Laufeyson...” He turned towards the slight Frost Giant standing next to him, offered him a small smile. “...shall be your new king.”

There was long moment of disbelieving silence, eyes opening in surprise, and then...

And then the entire room exploded in voices.


	49. Where there is life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This is really it. This is the last chapter before the epilogue.  
> This took about 2 years longer than I had thought.  
> So, you know.  
> Enjoy everybody. 
> 
> And happy Easter. 
> 
>  
> 
> x

Loki was standing in the library. 

He was staring at his desk, eyes unseeing.  
His hand was running up and down his tight, black leather pants. He wore little jewelry apart from two heavy golden gauntlets on his arms and the golden bands that wound around the base of his horns. A leather pauldron was strapped over one of his shoulders, several leather ties crossing his chest, holding the piece in place.   
His horns were oiled and shining, his hair was pulled back in a single, thick braid. 

Today he was going to be king.  
Loki closed his eyes, took a deep breath. 

He had no idea how that would turn out for him. 

For the last centuries the Jötnar had looked up to a martial king, a king of superior strength, a king that could win a fight in hand-to-hand combat against any other Jötun in the land.  
A king that was as war-hungry as the rest of his people.

And while Loki was a formidable fighter, his seiðr as deadly as many others horns, he was nothing like his predecessors. 

But it was a new era.   
He just really hoped that the Frost Giants proved to be able to adapt.

Loki took a deep breath. He pushed a hand through his hair, trying to straighten invisible slights to cover his nervousness.   
There was a low knock on the door. Loki's head snapped up. “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and then Ulf stuck his head in, mouth pulled into a wide grin.“Your majesty.” The tone of his voice was mocking.

Loki growled, adjusting some of the leather straps that were strapped over his chest. “Shut up, Ulf.”

Ulf simply grinned, stepped into the room. His gaze swept up and down Loki's form and his grin became even broader. “Well, I must say that you clean up good.”

Loki closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, straightening his head. “Is it time?”

Ulf nodded. “Yep.” The smile on his face faded, making way for a more somber look. “How are you feeling?”

Loki shrugged. “Fine.” He grimaced, staring up into the red eyes of his friend. “It will be interesting to see how long it takes them before someone tries to usurp me.”

Ulf huffed out a laugh. “I want to see them try.” He opened the door for Loki, his voice a low rumble. “Ready?”

Loki stared back. Slowly his mouth spread into a smile. “I was born ready. “

Ulf grinned back. “Well, then, your majesty. Let's do this.”

And slowly they made their way towards the throne room. 

 

x

 

The throne room was packed. 

The moment Loki stepped into the large room he felt as if his breath was taken away.

There were so many people. It felt like the whole of Jötunheimr had come to witness Loki's coronation.

And all of them were staring at him. 

Loki raised his chin and continued walking to the front.   
He stopped next to the throne.   
The throne his father had sat upon. 

Loki took another deep breath. His eyes glid over the sea of heads, all Jötnar, most of them former Warriors, some of whom he recognized.   
There was not a single Asgardian in sight. Just as discussed.   
His eyes stopped at the object to his right, a large, chest-like artifact that was covered with a thin blanket. Loki could feel his heart drum in his chest, and he took another deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

The room was filled with low murmuring, red eyes sparkling, all of them trained on him. 

Loki rolled his shoulders back, raised his chin. “Silence!” He shot two balls of fire from the palm of his hands, watching as they curved over the heads of the attending to the back of the room, where they extinguished.

It had the desired effect. 

The voices died down until there was utter silence. 

Loki nodded. “My fellow Jötnar. I stand in front of you today to take on the responsibilities of the kingship.” The words seemed too large in his mouth, like hot coals that he had to spit out before they could burn him. “I vow to serve you and to lead you. I vow to do everything in my power to bring peace to this realm and to...”

There was a commotion in the back and Loki closed his mouth when he saw a single Frost Giant fight his way to the front. It was a younger Alpha, standing much taller than the Jötnar surrounding him, a Warrior in his prime. His eyes were sparkling dangerously, as if he was ready for a fight. He sneered, showing his teeth. “Why should we accept _you_ as our king? What have you done to deserve it? The olden ways call for a fight in the arena, not to be appointed by our enemies!”   
There were approving murmurs, and Loki could see the nods of the Giants around him. 

He took a deep breath. 

All right.   
He had expected resistance, to be called out for taking the crown.   
Just not so very soon.

But it was just as well.

He knew what he wanted to say. 

He raised his head further, walking towards the young Alpha towering above him. He smirked, allowed his voice to carry well through the room. “You are right, of course. There are traditions that call for a fight to choose a new king. A fight of Warrior against Warrior, hands and horns only.” He was now very close, leaned in to stare the young Giant right into his dark, red eyes. “I ask you then, where are your horns? If we followed the olden traditions, as you request, you would be nothing but a lowly Ergi. Unfit for the throne.” He could see the eyes of the young Alpha widening, then narrowing dangerously. Loki grinned at him, then stepped away, raised his voice even more. “Almost none of you have horns. None safe the very old and the very young. So none of us, in the eyes of the olden laws, are fit to be king.” Loki walked back to the front, eyes scanning the silent crowd. “These are special times. And special times ask for special measures.” He raised his head. “I am a Mage. And an Ergi. But I have fought for this realm since the day I was born. I have led the revolution.” He let the words sink for a moment before he continued. “The time in which only the ones with the sharpest horns and the largest muscles ruled, are over. For look where it brought us.” He took a deep breath. “Now is the time for wisdom and intelligence. I have used my brain for years to lead us where we are today.” He tapped at his head. “And behold, we are a free people. Not because we fought. But because we negotiated.”

“Was it not your cunt that freed us?” A voice shouted from the back of the room. 

There was rumbling laughter that spread all around them, but also dangerous snarls, clenched fists. 

Loki raised his head. “You wish to discuss my cunt? Fine. Let's discuss it.” He stood taller, his fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, I have bedded the king of Asgard.” His eyes roamed the room. “I also bedded some of you. And I am not ashamed of what I might have had to do to get us here.” He waked to the front and climbed onto the throne. He stood tall so everyone could see him. “Either way, I did not accept the fate that I was given, to lay on my back and allow others to dictate my destiny. I have fought to be where I am today.” 

Loki raised his voice. “My father used to say that I should have died the day I was born. But I didn't.” He took a long look around. The room was silent, everyone's eyes trained on him. “I survived the birth that took my mother, survived a father who had sworn to kill every Mage in existence.” He took a deep breath. “I was sent to Asgard as an insult. I learned to survive as a stranger in a strange land, and when I heard of the impending attack on Jötunheimr, I fled it to warn my people.”

Loki clenched his fists at his side. “I have survived the Great War, just like many of you. And I am the only one that survived the terrible hunger of Hǫrgrblóð.” Loki closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them again. “I carried the yoke of slavery for many years, had to bow before the king of our enemies. But I did not break. Instead I came out stronger.”

Loki's eyes were glittering. “I am the mother of the wolf. And the lover of our enemy king.”

He allowed another moment of silence, for his words to sink in. “I am going to be your next king. And you will allow it. For...” Loki raised his hands, and the chest that had been standing in the corner slowly rose into the air. There was a sharp intake of breath all around him, the Frost Giants backing off with large eyes as the object floated towards Loki. Loki made a waving gesture with his second hand, and the blanket that had been covering it was ripped to the side, revealing the Casket of Ancient Winters.

There was utter silence in the room.

The Casket was emitting a faint, blue glow, hovering in the air, slowly turning around itself. 

A murmur started in the crowd, eyes lit with hope and hunger for the power that everyone knew the artifact held. 

Loki spoke once more, voice clear and strong, echoing through the great hall.   
“This is a new era. A new era of healing, of learning of new strengths.”   
His eyes wandered. “Most of you have lost your horns.   
Something many of you believed to be the only strength that was available to you.  
But look at us now.   
We fought together for freedom, and together we stand.  
We will rebuild this realm, Ergis and Alphas standing side by side.   
Mages and Warriors as equal.   
This is the kingdom I shall build.” 

He indicated towards the Casket. “I shall recapture the winds. This is a promise. I shall do so. Or die trying.”

He raised his fist. “For I am the impossible king. And the Norns favor me.”

For a long moment there was silence. Then one of the Jötnar, an older Warrior raised his hand, laid his head back and bellowed out the dark war cry of the Jötnar. 

Soon others followed, first a few, then the entire room erupted in loud howling around them. 

Loki looked around. He could see hope and eagerness. 

He raised his fist high into the air and screamed. 

He was king. 

And he was going to save this realm.

Whatever it may take. 

 

x

 

The first couple of months were rough.

While the coronation had gone better than planed, still many of his people were suspicious of an Ergi Mage sitting on the throne. 

Loki was glad that Thor stayed true to his word and withdrew most of his troops soon after he had been made king, giving less ground for his Jötun enemies to attack him.

Thor had visited himself, and Loki had done his best never to be alone with him in a room for too long, to keep rumours from spreading. They would do anyway, but this way he knew it was not his fault.

Thor had noticed how cool Loki was, but he had understood the issues that came with his new kingship. Before he left he took Loki's hand, uncaring about the Jötnar watching them. “You should come to Asgard. Just for a visit. We can discuss this peace treaty further.” He squeezed Loki's hand, a faint smile on his face. “Also Frigga asks for you. She wishes to speak to you about the Casket and the recapturing of the winds.”

Loki withdrew his hand from Thor's with a slight frown. “I can not leave Jötunheimr and go to Asgard. Not yet.” He shook his head. “My people do not yet trust me, for I have not done anything to earn their trust. If I leave this realm to follow you to Asgard, the rumours will flight high. I can not come. And I have to ask you... to not come visit too often. For now.” His smile was weak.

Thor nodded, his mouth set in a thin line. “I understand. I will ask Frigga to come visit you.” He took another step back. “But I have to warn you, Loki. If anything happens to my mother while she visits this realm, anything at all...” His eyes were sparkling. “I will turn Jötunheimr into a desert wasteland.”

Loki inclined his head. “That is fair.”

His heart was throbbing in pain at the inability to touch Thor, to pull him closer, to press his entire body against him. 

But now was not the time.

That would have to come later.

 

x

 

Less than a month went by when a messenger arrived from Asgard, requesting a meeting between Loki and Frigga, the mother of Gods. 

A week later Loki was standing at the entrance, calmly watching as a group of five people and an additional pack-horse approached. The Jötnar who guarded the gate stepped aside but did not lower their Icen weapons. Loki sighed. Feelings were still running high, and Asgardians were not as easily welcomed by everybody the way that Loki and Thor had envisioned it.

Loki waited as the visitors climbed off their steeds, then watched as Frigga and two of her body guards climbed the stairs. The other two soldiers unloaded the smaller pack-horse, hauling a heavy trunk along.

Frigga reached out as she approached Loki, her mouth spread into a wide smile. “Loki.” She leaned in for a fleeting kiss, her gloved fingers warm in Loki's hands. “How glad I am to see you.”

“Frigga.” Loki nodded. “I thank you for coming.”

Frigga smiled, her cheeks bright red from the cold, the pelted hood pulled far into her face. “It is my pleasure.” Her smile broadened. “Though I have to be honest – it is rather colder than I had expected.”

Loki returned her smile, stepped to the side. “Come. The library is warm.” 

Once they had arrived in the library they waited for the soldiers to carry in the heavy chest. Loki watched them retreat in silence, then closed the door. He turned towards Frigga, pointing to one of the chairs close to the fireplace. “Please. Have a seat.”

Frigga did, rubbing her palms together as she leaned close to the magical fire, trying to catch some of its warmth. She watched as Loki sat down next to her. “Will it not be too warm for you?”

Loki shook his head. “I have lived in Asgard for years. I can stand a little bit of warmth for a while.”

Frigga nodded. “That is good.” She blew into her hands, held them close to the fire again. “I brought you some books.” Loki raised his eyebrow and followed her gaze, towards the large chest that the soldiers had placed close to the entrance. She smiled at him. “Why don't you have a look?”

Loki rose from his seat and stepped up to the chest, going to his knees in front of it. He snapped the two latches open and pushed up the heavy lid. The chest was filled with books and scrolls. Loki picked up one thin booklet, and then another, much heavier volume. Frigga was still leaning close to the fire but had turned towards him. “I have done a lot of research. About the Casket and the winds that have escaped. But I am going to be honest.” She looked at Loki who was leafing through one of the books, the pages thin and see-through like silk. “There was not much I could find. It seems like a lot of the knowledge regarding the Casket has been lost with time. But I know two things for certain: It will take a lot of preparation to harness the winds. And it will be exceedingly dangerous.”

Loki, sighed. He replaced the book in the chest and stood. “I thought as much.” He turned and joined Frigga at the fireplace, sitting down next to her once more. “What did you find out?”

Frigga shrugged. Her large blue eyes were trained on him. “The few passages where the Casket was mentioned are in fables and storybooks. Sometimes as little as a single sentence in an entire book. So most if what I know is hearsay.” Her gaze trialed towards the open chest. “I brought every single scrap of paper that I could find that mentions the artifact, in one form or another.” 

Loki inclined his head. “I thank thee.”

Frigga sighed. “There are other artifacts that are scattered throughout the realms, which have similar properties. I read up on some of them, and they seem to be following a certain theme.” Frigga shrugged. “If we find nothing else we should follow the rules that apply to most of them.”

Loki nodded. “What are the rules?”

Frigga blew into her hands again, rubbed them together. “I believe that you require five to seven sorcerers, set up to stand on the points of a star. I have found some enchantments. Spells. They could be strong enough to pull the storms back into the Casket.” Frigga stood in one, flowing movement. She walked up to the chest and went through the books, finally pulling out a thin book. Its leather binding was curled and ripped, the pages yellow and brittle with age.“There is another problem. Something most artifacts that hold strong magic seem to share.” She carefully opened it where a thin bookmark was placed between the pages. Then she passed it to Loki. “The magic that resides in the Casket is ancient. And here it says that it requires blood for it to be closed. A sacrifice.”

Loki's mouth thinned as he took the book carefully. He stared at the old writing, the letters curly and old-fashioned, hard to read. They were written in an old tongue, and it took Loki several long moments to fight through a single passage. Frigga waited patiently as he continued to work his way along the page. Finally Loki looked up. His face was solemn. “You could be right about the sacrifice. Though this word…” His finger wavered over the yellow paper, pointing at a passage. “This does not mean blood. If I am not mistaken, this means souls.” His forehead furrowed. “The Caskets feasts on souls. That's why the Mages died when they released the winds.”

Frigga nodded. “If this is true, them the Casket will require another sacrifice when we open it again.” She went still for a moment. “We need at least five Mages. I am not sure who would take that chance when there is death to fear.”

Loki sighed. “We are going to have to find a way around it.”

 

x 

 

They took the time to read through all the books again, discussing what they found, going through passage after passage. Loki took notes, his clean, meticulous handwriting filling page after page.

Frigga had already scouted several sorcerers over the realms that she believed were strong enough to join them for their endeavor, and Thor had graciously offered to enumerate them handsomly.   
But with the knowledge that death was a very possible outcome for all of them, neither Loki nor Frigga wished to take the chance. 

Frigga stayed for two days. She left the box of books with Loki so he could continue to read up on what would be required. 

And he did. 

He tried to pull his new kingdom together, met with his advisers, and tried his best to listen to all requirements and hopes of his people, taking all needs into consideration. 

And in the evening he would sit down and read.

Night after night.

About two months later, Loki was sitting in the library, his head having fallen onto the table next to three rolled-out scrolls when he jolted awake. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes, feeling disoriented. 

What had woken him?

A dream?

He furrowed his brow and looked around, trying to remember what his dream had entailed. 

Then it came to him. 

He had an idea.  
Maybe the solution to their problem.

It was risky, yes, might not even work.  
But it was the best he had come up with so far.

All he had to do now was ask Thor for another favor. 

Loki grinned.

He pulled out a couple of sheets of paper and wrote two letters, one to Frigga and one to Thor.

 

x

 

“It is much too dangerous!”

Loki sighed. 

Thor was staring at him, red spots dancing on his cheeks. He was breathing heavily, his large chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. 

Loki had known that Thor would come to the point where he finally understood the danger that his mother and lover would subjugate themselves to.   
And it seemed like the moment he did get it, he had mounted his horse and come to see Loki.

And now he was standing in front of the slight Jötun in his library, shivering with suppressed anger. “You don’t even know if it will work.”

Loki watched him steadily. “No. I don't. But do you have a better idea?”

Thor growled. “No. But I am not going to loose neither you nor my mother to an idea that is not well thought through!”

Loki ran his fingers over Fenris soft ears, his son curled up at his feet. The wolf was eyeing Thor, but did not move. He had learned to accept his father as time went by. Loki continued talking, voice low and even. “There is no other option. And we raked our brains to come up with something, anything, believe me. But it is this or nothing.”

Thor crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Then nothing.” He snarled. “I will not sacrifice you to such a folly.”

Loki smiled, but it was dangerous, his teeth glittering in the low light. “Are you taking back your word?”

Thor smashed his hand on the table between them, almost cracking through the ice. “You could die! And I won’t have that!” 

Fenris growled under his breath, but Loki soothed him carding his fingers through his coarse fur. He sighed. “Thor. Listen to me. We have read every book that we could find. There is nothing to prevent the need of the Casket to feed on souls. But if this works, then we can pull through. And Jötunheimr will finally be free of this curse.”

Thor shook his head. “It is much too dangerous. You have to do more research.”

Loki sighed. “We have done all the research we could. I have raided the library and found almost nothing. Frigga said that she scouted the realms to find books on the subject.” He slowly stood, walking up to Thor. He stopped in front of him, raised his arms and gently took his face into his hands. The blond beard tickled under his palms. “There is nothing else we can do, Thor. This is it. Either it works or it doesn't. It is up to the Norns to decide.” He leaned in and gave Thor a soft kiss, cold lips brushing over warm ones.

Thor took a deep breath. “I am worried. That's all.” His arms slung around the lithe body of Loki, pulling him closer. “I don't want to loose you. Not again.”

Loki nodded, pulling Thor's head against his shoulder. He could feel the hard muscles moving against him, making him feel overly warm and protected. “We are going to be fine, Thor. I promise.”

Thor pulled Loki close, dug his face into his black hair, as if he was never going to let him go. 

 

x

 

Then, after long discussions, the date was finally set.

Loki and Frigga had chosen an auspicious day, mentioned in the astrological calendars of Asgard and Jötunheimr alike. On this specific day all the realms of their small universe aligned, sitting in one row with the sun before they would drift apart again on their never-ending journey among the stars. 

Anything to appease the Norns. 

And now they had six months left to prepare. 

It was too much time and not enough. 

Frigga had found three additional sorcerers that were willing to capture the winds with them and force them to return to the Casket of Ancient Winters. Two did it for the glory and one for the substantial compensation that Thor had promised.   
They were all very good.  
Loki did not know how to ever thank Frigga for her help in finding them. 

Loki had set up a decree that, in the case of his demise, Ulf would take over the kingship. Loki trusted him to take more time to find a more suitable, long-term candidate. 

In the meantime Loki ran his kingdom.

There was lot to do. 

And he might not be there for much longer.

 

x

 

Almost six months later Loki watched, eyes squinting against the onslaught of the storm, as the caravan of horses rode towards them. He could make out the thick, red capes of Thor and Frigga through the howling storm that seemed to be even stronger than usual. They were followed by another ten or so figures and pack-animals carrying large boxes.

Loki waited as everyone slid out of their saddles, watches them as they made their way up the stairs.

He kissed Frigga and Thor on the cheeks, took the hands of the foreign sorcerers to greet them. “Please come in.” He led them to the library that had been warmed enough to be comfortable for people unused to the cold of the Icen realm. Thor had brought a selected array of specialties and drink that was offered, then Frigga, Loki and the sorcerers started preparing for their upcoming feat.

They had one week left. 

And much to discuss. 

 

x

 

Late that same evening, after Loki had shown all his guests to their rooms, he went back to his own chambers. When he opened the doors he was not surprised to find the room dipped in light, Thor sitting at his desk, rising when Loki came in.

Loki went towards him without a word. He knew to expect the heavy arms pulling him close, the kiss that lasted long enough for him to gasp for breath. 

“Loki.” Thor's voice was a low, rough rasp.

“Thor.” Loki carded his fingers through Thor's hair, rubbing his nose against where his jaw met his neck. He smelled strong there, of musk, thunder and dark, fertile earth.   
Like Thor.   
Like life itself.

Thor was growling under his breath. “I should call this whole thing off.” His breath hitched when Loki nibbled at his skin. “It is much too dangerous.”

Loki smiled, pushing his fingers under the hem of Thor's shirt. “Too late now.” He tugged at the material, and Thor grabbed the fabric, pulling it over his head. 

He crowded Loki, his thickly muscled arms circling him. “It is never too late.” He murmured. “Maybe I should imprison you so you can't go through with this foolishness.”

Loki smiled at him. He stepped backwards, leaning forward to unlace his leather pants. “Fantastic idea, darling.” When he was done he hooked his fingers under the seam of his pants, pushed them down so they puddled around his feet on the floor. He stepped out of them, glorious in his nakedness. “The only problem with that is, that I would then have to murder you in your sleep.” Loki smiled softly as he stepped up to Thor, who was watching him with a hunger in his blue eyes. He pressed his face against Thor's bare chest, breathing in the heavy, heady scent of musk that he could not get enough of. “And I would still do what I want.”

Thor looked down at him, amusement glittering in his eyes. “Of course you would. Otherwise you would not be Loki.”

Loki hummed under his breath. His fingers carded through the blond hair once more, then gripped it, hard. Thor winced. Loki smiled at him, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “Kneel, my king. Show me how much you would miss me.”

He could see defiance glow in Thor's face, but then it turned into something else entirely, something more animalistic, hungry. He slowly sunk to his knees in front of the naked Frost Giant, his blue eyes never leaving Loki's face. “You should not talk as if you are going to die.” Thor reprimanded him softly. “The Norns might hear you.” Then he leaned in, letting his hot tongue run over the flaccid length in front of him.

Loki smiled down at him. “It does not matter what I say. The Norns will do as they please.”

Thor took him in his mouth and Loki laid his head back and groaned. 

Seven more nights. 

They all lasted much longer and went by much faster than they had any right to. 

 

x

 

And then the day had come. 

Loki and the sorcerers spend their last evening going through their plan, where who would stand, what should be said when, in what tongue, in what strength of voice. They practiced how to draw energy from the universe one last time, to make sure that everyone had the power that they required for their feat. 

They tried to go to bed early, but Loki did not sleep that night. 

Neither did Thor. 

They laid in each others arms, unable to speak, to talk about what would happen if the worst came to pass. 

“You will be fine.” Thor murmured in his hair.

Loki said nothing. Instead he gripped the flesh tighter that was under his fingertips, glad that he was not alone, that Thor was with him on that very long night. 

Two hours before sunrise Loki rose from his bed.  
He pressed a kiss against Thor's shoulder. “We should get ready.” Then he went to wash himself.  
He pulled on his tight, leather pants, slung the thick fur coat over his shoulders. Last he clipped the golden amulet onto his horns, the one that Thor had given him when he had found out that Loki was pregnant. It gave Loki a twitch in his heart and he let his fingers ghost over it, channeling the love and hatred he had felt for Thor all these years. 

He hoped it would help feed his strength to survive. 

Before they left he hugged Fenris one more time, scratching his face into the shaggy neck of his son. “You be good now.” He murmured.

They met in the throne room an hour before sunrise.   
Everyone was quiet, and there was a solemn look on the faces of all attendants. 

Thor stood in the middle, arms crossed in front of his chest. “It is all set up.” He said.

Loki nodded.

And then they left for outside. 

 

x

 

They had chosen a place not far from the castle, in an wide open field.

The howling storms ripped at their hair and capes, as if they knew what the five sorcerers and Mages were about to try. 

It did not deter them. 

Loki had placed down five stones to indicate where they were to stand, and they watched in silence as the Casket of Ancient Winters was placed in the middle of them. 

Thor had taken stand a couple of meters behind Loki, standing next to the large outline of Hǫrgrblóð.

Then it was time. 

Loki nodded at the others and they started chanting their spells as the first rays of sun touched the horizon. 

The first thing they did was to weave the energy of the Casket of Ancient Winters back into the tapestry of the realm, the mesh of energy and magic that once spanned the entirety of Jötunheimr and had been destroyed when the Casket had been ripped from its rightful place. 

It was hard work and took hours, in which the sorcerers could neither hear nor see, just the whites of their eyes showing as sweat beaded on their faces and immediately froze, soon covering them in a thin layer of ice and snow.

They could all feel it when it was done – the net of energy beneath them connecting everything, strong as it should be. 

Loki raised his arms and shouted for the Norns to hear him. 

He called the winds, a chant as old as time that pulled the storms towards him, towards the prison that they had once fled from, their twirling, twisting bodies fighting him every step of the way. 

It was difficult, hard work, harnessing the winds.

While they might not be alive, the storms had made the Icen realm their own, had occupied its plains for so long that it was hard to separate them from the mesh of life that they had anchored to. It was as hard as trying to rip a well-rooted tree from the ground with bare hands. 

Loki grit his teeth and fought.  
As did the others.

It was a couple of hours after noon that Loki could feel the first tendrils of the dark, vicious magic of the Casket reaching for him, slithering into his soul.

He gasped, eyes wandering over to Frigga. She had gone pale, convulsing as she fought the Casket and tried to harness the winds at the same time.

Loki could feel the pull, the Casket now sucking in the winds by its own volition, hungry to devour everything it had once spewed out, to imprison the storms in the depths of its belly once again. 

It was time for the sacrifice. 

“Thor.” Loki screamed. “Now!” 

He could not turn around, but he knew that Thor had stepped up to Hǫrgrblóð and was trying to lift off its lid, to allow the souls trapped in its depths to escape. It was a generous offer, the souls of hundreds of kings and generals, collected over millenia, in stead of the lives of five sorcerers.

But nothing happened.   
The lid did not move. 

Thor pushed at the solid rock cover, the black stone shining underneath his fingers, his muscles bulging with the strain. 

“THOR!” Loki was screaming now. He could feel how his soul was ripped from his body, how it started to leave him, pulled into the depths of the Casket alongside the last of the winds.

Thor stared at them, could see the first of the sorcerers collapsing to his knees. 

He turned back towards Hǫrgrblóð, and without a second thought lifted Mjølner far above his head and brought it down with all his might. 

The lid cracked with a dark sound, like the earth splitting open itself, and from its dark depths the souls of countless kings and warriors spilled forth, howling. They rose up into the sky, free for a few traitorous seconds before they were pulled into the maelstrom of the hunger of the Casket of Ancient Winters, just escaped their stone prison to be sucked into another. 

The howling became louder, a mixture of storms and undead souls, covering the screams of the sorcerers. 

Then, all of the sudden, it was over.

The last of the winds and souls was pulled in to the blue depths of the Casket, and then it closed with a snap.

The sorcerers all fell to the ground, like puppets whose strings had been cut. 

“LOKI!” Thor dropped Mjølner next to the cracked ruins of Hǫrgrblóð, jogging through the snow towards his collapsed lover. 

All over the realm, every single Frost Giant walked out into the open, blinking at the bright rays of the suns that none of them had seen for thousands of years. They stared up into the blue skies, eyes tearing from the brightness and emotions, the sudden silence deafening. 

In Útgarðar a loud sob broke through the quiet, and Jötnar that heard it made their way to the Icen plain, where the the mighty Thunderer was sitting on the ground, rocking the lifeless body of the king of Jötunheimr in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> x
> 
> The epilogue is more or less done, has been for 2 years.  
> So it will be coming really soon.  
> Promise.


	50. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This – the epilogue – was done and has been sitting on my hard drive for roughly two years now.  
> I did update it, obviously. But it was the one thing I went to when I was loosing the will to write – I would read it and say to myself: I need to publish this end.  
> It feels strange for it to finally be the day.  
> It is the end of the longest thing I ever produced, the most work I ever put into something simply for the pleasure of creating. I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I did. It led me through some of my must turbulent times of my life, almost a year lost in the pit of pitch-black depression where I felt as if my life was over, to finding a new job and careful first steps in a new world of hope.  
> And through all this time this story was there, something to turn to, something steady and important. 
> 
> I wish to make it into a book. If you have noticed problems with continuity or anything else you wish to comment on, please let me know. As it is my baby, please only constructive criticism.  
> For I am a delicate flower. Seriously. 
> 
> Thank you again. Thank you for reading and commenting.  
> Many of you left amazing feedback, words of encouragement, words of love.  
> They meant everything.  
> Those were the things that made be belief that I could go on and do it.  
> I thank you from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> May the force be with you. Or something. :-)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> x

1000 years later.

 

x

 

Loki was sitting on a small bench just outside of the castle.

He was smiling.

He had his head laid back, staring up into the sky.  
One of the Great Beasts was floating high above the castle, her enormous body belying the grace with which she moved.  
She was stunningly beautiful. 

Loki allowed himself to be charmed by the rare occurrence, simply watching the immense Beast as she continued to wander. 

No wonder that they had once been worshipped by his ancestors, that temples had been build in their honour, that priests had prayed to them so many lifetimes ago. 

They were so enormous, so otherworldly.

Loki hummed under his breath, closed his eyes.

His mind went back to the day that Jötunheimr had been freed from the winds.  
He and the other sorcerers had been in a coma for weeks afterwards, a coma deep enough that the rarest of breath escaped their bodies. Deep enough that many later said that the five had risen from the dead.  
But the day that the first of the Icen Beasts had emerged from her thousands years of slumber and swum the air over the castle, Loki had opened his eyes. The Jötnar had seen it as a sign that Loki was meant to be king, chosen by the Norns and the Great Beasts alike. 

No one had questioned his kingship since. 

He was ripped from his thoughts by a small sound and looked down, shifting his newest babe in his arms. He had been nursing him, but the little one had let go of his nipple, staring up into the sky. His small, chubby hand reached out, his red eyes wide with wonder.  
“She's beautiful, isn't she?” Loki crooned to his son, running his finger over the soft cheek of the newborn. His babe gurgled and Loki wiped away some of the drool that had snaked down his chin. 

Babies. Such messy little things. 

There was a loud cry that had his head snapping back up.  
He furrowed his brow, looking down a small incline where Fenris was standing next to his daughter, the future queen of Asgard. She was dwarfed next to the large wolf, balancing on her fat little legs, wobbling as she clawed a fist into his black hair. Her head was dark blue as she let out another ear-shattering shriek, then logged her thumb back in her mouth. 

Loki sighed. 

So much for his calm mid-day break with his children.  
He slowly rose, careful not to disturb the little boy in his arms who was slowly slipping into slumber. He made his way down the small hill where Fenris stood patiently, his eldest daughter glowering at him from under long, black lashes. 

“Asta.” Loki looked down at her, shaking his head. “You are not supposed to pull at his fur, remember? Fenris is not a toy.”

The little girl pulled her thumb from her mouth, spit-slick and shiny. “Bah.” She proclaimed, then grabbed Fenris's fur with the second hand and started rocking on her little feet. Fenris gave a small grunt then nosed her, his tough tongue lapping over her dirty cheeks. 

Loki sighed. He was glad that Fenris had the patience of a saint when it came to children, never doing more than giving them a small, reprimanding nip when they hurt him. Asta tugged at his fur again, and Loki bent down to scold her, when the sky flashed on the horizon. 

The rainbow bridge. 

Loki rose, a large smile spreading his lips. 

Asta had stopped hopping up and down, turning towards Loki. Her red eyes were large. “Dada?”

“Maybe.” Loki held out his hand. “Shall we go check?”

He did not put his hopes up.  
It might not be Thor.  
It could be traders or a messenger, visitors even.  
But it had been two months, and Loki was craving Thor's touch.  
He already knew that if it wasn't his thunderous lover, that he would go to Asgard as soon as possible himself. And if that big oaf wasn't in some war, dying on a battlefield, he would get a tongue lashing for not visiting as he had promised.

Asta had let go off Fenris's fur and had fallen onto her small behind. She was clapping her little hands. “Dada!” Her body flickered and turned into the pale, pink flesh of the Asgardians, her small, curled horns disappearing. Then she was blue once more, face crunched unhappily. 

Loki grinned. “I told you it's too cold to shift. You have to wait till Asgard, remember?”

She let out another squawk, then scrambled back to her feet. Loki held out his hand, shifting his sleeping son on his arm. “Come, sweetheart!” The little girl stood and toddled towards him, fell the last couple of steps, holding herself fast on the billowy pants of his mother. Then she straightened herself again and took Loki's hand, her eyes bright with excitement.

It took them almost half an hour to walk to the front gate.  
Nothing like trying to go anywhere with a toddler and a newborn babe.  
Between the cooing of some of the Jötnar that they met on their way ,and the amount of times that Asta was distracted, he was happy he got there at all. 

They had arrived just in time. 

When they walked up to the steps of the entrance, Loki could see a lone, white horse cantering up the road, the red cape of the rider flapping in the wind behind him. 

Loki stood taller, shifting his son on his arm. 

Thor. 

It was about time.

A warm feeling lanced deep inside of him, darkening his cheeks in anticipation.  
He could not wait to drag the Odinson to his chambers and _ravish_ him.  
It had been much too long. 

And Fenris was an excellent babysitter.

He watched as the horse came to a stop and Thor dismounted, boots landing with a loud thud on the icen floor. His bearded face softened when he saw his little girl toddle towards him, scooping her up in his arms. She screamed with joy when he twirled her around. For a long moment he held her high up in the air before he pretended to let her fall, catching her in his arms. 

Then his eyes fell upon Loki and his face lit up. He sat his daughter onto his arm, her little blue arms winding around him as they walked up to Loki. 

Thor stopped just in front of him, smiling, his large hand coming up, stroking over Loki's cool cheek. 

Loki smiled. “Greeting, oh mighty Thunderer. How was your journey?”

Thor grinned back, pushed an errand lock of hair from his face. “I thank thee, oh great king of Jötunheimr. It was pleasant enough. ” He leaned in over the small boy in Loki's arms. “How is the future king of the Icen realm?”

“He is good.” Loki made a face. “Though I am pretty sure that he is going to chew my nipple off sooner or later.” He glowered at the bundle in his arms. “It turns out he is a bit of a biter, teeth or not.”

Thor beamed as he straightened. “Just like his Dad! Knows exactly what to do with the ladies!”

Loki rolled his eyes. The loud voices of his parents talking had startled their son and he mewled softly. Loki pressed a soft kiss against his forehead, slowly rocking him to calm him down. “How long can you stay?”

Thor grinned. “Two weeks. And then I am taking you back to Asgard with me.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Oh, are you now?”

Thor nodded. “Yes. Frigga wishes to see her grand-children. And it has been over a year since you joined me in Asgard.” He reached out with his free hand, took Loki's, pulling it up to his lips and giving it a small kiss. “It would be great if you could take a little time out of your busy schedule to visit me every now and then. Just for a week or so.” His grin became even broader. “We could go to battle if you feel like it. There is this hoard of robbers in Svartálfheimr that I wanted to go hunt down. And we could get some Icen cream in Midgard.” 

Loki grinned. “Sounds like fun.”

Thor stepped up even closer. His voice was low, husky. “I missed you.”

Loki looked at him, face earnest. “I missed you too.” 

Thor leaned in and kissed Loki softly.

They stood like this for a long moment, their children pressed between their bodies, the heat of their father and the cold of their mother combining them. 

Loki relaxed. 

Life was good. 

Maybe as good as it was ever going to be. 

 

The end.


End file.
